


My Biology does not Define Me (but it’s fun): A Tragicomedy in Three Parts

by kathkin



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Arthur, M/M, Omega Merlin, Omega Verse, Playing with tropes, see notes for clarification of non-con warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-14
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-08 20:09:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 35,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1954638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathkin/pseuds/kathkin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone expected Prince Arthur to be an Alpha, but he turned out to be just a Beta. Everyone thinks Merlin is a Beta, but he's secretly an Omega - and a very unconventional one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Originally posted on Kink Me, Merlin! bon-bons [here](http://kinkme-merlin.livejournal.com/22767.html?thread=39030255#t39030255).
> 
> 2) Beta'd by [bend_me_baby](http://bend-me-baby.livejournal.com/).
> 
> 3) This fic has a rape/non-con warning for a number of reasons: there are references throughout the first two chapters to sexual assault, but all the sex that occurs is consensual (and there's no Alpha/Omega sex because Arthur's not an Alpha). However, some of it takes place when one character is in heat. The third chapter contains a fairly graphic depiction of sexual assault. TL DR this fic's complicated so I played it safe and opted for the strongest warning.

Arthur’s fourteenth birthday celebrations had an air of anticipation to them. After all, he was told by his father, many an important nobleman, embarrassingly _Morgana_ , Gaius, and his father again, later in the evening and more drunkenly, he could expect to come of age any day now. His sixteenth birthday bore an air of impatience. About half of Arthur’s peers had undergone that sudden burst of lust and sex-soaked aggression that marked their transition into full Alphahood. Upon his seventeenth birthday, with Arthur still showing no signs of coming of age, his father gave up. He threw his hands up in despair and sent him to Gaius for a thorough and humiliating examination.

Gaius’s official and expert opinion was that there was nothing wrong with Arthur at all. “His development is perfectly normal and healthy,” he said to the King in a tone that was probably meant to be reassuring. “Arthur’s doing all the things Betas usually do at his age.”

Arthur’s cheeks burned as he dragged his shirt back on. “But I am an _Alpha_ ,” his father was saying through gritted teeth. “My father was an Alpha, and so was his father. Arthur’s mother was an Omega. He should be –” 

“Yes, but if you’ll recall, Sire, the queen’s mother was a Beta,” said Gaius. “That sort of diluting will happen sometimes with political marriages, I’m afraid. Inheritance is very complicated. Arthur simply takes after his maternal grandmother.”

The King was furious. Arthur was shamed and humiliated, and for a while frightened. The Pendragon line had been Alpha for generations. Alphas were kings. Kings were Alphas. That was all there was to it. 

Of course, it became rapidly clear that his Father intended to prioritise his own blood over centuries-old tradition, no matter how much it made the older members of the court grumble. Gaius privately told Arthur that it as probably a blessing. “It may not seem like it now, but you should be glad you’re not an alpha,” he said. “They can be dreadfully violent – they struggle to control their instincts, I mean. You mustn’t repeat this, but I for one will be glad to have a king who isn’t ruled by his, ah, genitalia.”

At the time, Arthur had scoffed, because it was absurd. He _should_ be an Alpha. He had every right to be an Alpha. For a long time he ached inside for want of being an Alpha and checked himself every day for signs of late-onset maturity. Though he could match any of the Alphas at court on the field, no matter how hard he trained, his body remained leaner than theirs; he could not seem to put on their showy bulk of muscle. He had more hair on his chest than many Betas, but it was light and blond next to the dark fur of the Alphas. And though he checked and checked, he showed no signs of developing a knot. At long last, with a heavy heart, he gave up checking his genitals morning and night and did his best to get used to it.

Three years later though, he still looked back on that day of revelation with a king of crawling shame, he _was_ glad. He was glad not to have succumbed to the mood swings and unabashed lust and nauseating arrogance of his Alpha peers. He was glad of being able to rely on his mind staying his own. He was honestly proud that the increase in young Betas at court becoming squires and knights rather than stewards and scholars was largely his doing. The people of Camelot – except perhaps some of the Alphas – seemed to have come to an unspoken agreement with Gaius. The heir to the throne being a Beta was, despite their initial reservations, A Good Thing.

It had become common knowledge that the Prince of Camelot was a Beta. Arthur no longer had to go through the awkward business of explaining his unconventional royal biology to people. He could simply assume everyone knew. 

Everyone, it seemed, except Merlin, who remained oblivious for a full six months after arriving in Camelot. “Wait,” he said one morning, pausing midway through folding laundry, apparently struck by Arthur’s remark about the behaviour of _the Alphas_ on the practice field. “Aren’t _you_ an Alpha?”

At first Arthur uttered a simple, “No.” Then the full idiocy of the question sank in, and he exclaimed, “No! I’m a Beta.” Merlin stared at him, eyes wide. Perhaps he was shocked to realise that the man he’d thought was his superior was actually, biologically, his peer. “Heaven’s above, Merlin, how did you miss that?”

“You’re the king’s son! I just sort of – assumed.” Arthur’s shirt dangled limply in his fingers.

Arthur rubbed a hand across his face in exasperation. “ _Mer_ lin. Do I smell like an Alpha to you?”

Merlin shrugged. His initial shock had passed, and now he seemed remarkably blasé about his own idiocy. “I thought you must be masking it somehow.”

“Why would I do that?” said Arthur. “ _How_ would I do that?”

“People do it sometimes!” said Merlin. “They have their reasons, alright?”

Had Arthur been paying more attention, he would have noticed that Merlin did seem to be speaking from personal experience, and that the expression on his face had clearly transitioned from shock to relief – but he was too busy being dumbfounded at Merlin’s obliviousness. “You _really_ need to be more observant,” he said. “Maybe have Gaius check your nose. And your ears.” He smirked and strode away, leaving Merlin to his folding.

*

Naturally, lording it over Merlin came back to bite him in the arse. “ _You’re_ an Omega? Seriously?”

Merlin was plastered across his tiny bed, sweat-soaked, hair slicked to his forehead, face flushed, stripped down to his undershirt and barely-laced breeches, fingers twisting in the blankets behind his head – and, naturally, sporting a painful-looking erection. He cracked open an eye. “What are you even doing in my room,” he slurred.

“Well, I _was_ looking to find out why you’re shirking off work. _Again_.”

“M’in heat,” said Merlin, as if that weren’t strikingly obvious. “Please go away.” His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists in his blanket. He let out a frustrated sigh and pressed one hand against his crotch, squeezing hard. 

Arthur tried not to look at the outline of Merlin’s prick that showed so clearly though his breeches. “Well, that’s no excuse not to work.”

“Are you serious?” Merlin gave up rubbing himself and pushed himself up on his elbows, the movement laboured. “I’m in _heat_ , Sire. M’not working for you today. Ask Gaius if you don’t believe me. And go to hell while you’re at it.” He slumped back on the bed, throwing an arm over his face so he wouldn’t even have to look at Arthur.

“That was a joke,” said Arthur lamely. “I was joking.” He cleared his throat. Merlin looked sick. He looked like he had a fever, all pale and sweaty and groaning. He looked uncomfortable and somewhat disgusting and there was a part of Arthur that wanted to check he wasn’t dying.

Unfortunately, there was another part of Arthur – perhaps some previously-submerged sliver of Alpha inherited from his father – to which Merlin smelled like honey and sweetmeats, like something delicious that Arthur wanted to eat up. There was a tiny part of Arthur that wanted to do things to Merlin that made his skin crawl and in that moment he had never, _ever_ been more glad not to be an Alpha. An Alpha standing in a room with an Omega in full heat for the first time in his life would not have any self control. None.

“Are you alright?” he said. “Should you really be up here alone in your condition?”

“Gaius’ll be back in a few minutes.” Merlin’s voice was remarkably level given the way he was squirming on the bed. “The herbs around the door are masking the scent.” Arthur glanced at the bundles of herbs strapped do the doorframe – and suddenly recognised the smell as the same as had been emanating from Merlin since he first came to Camelot.

It was no wonder he’d been disguising himself. An unmated Omega without a noble family to protect them was vanishingly rare. A sitting duck, up for grabs. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?” said Merlin, tone stuttering and apprehensive.

“Of course not,” said Arthur. “Your secret’s safe with me.” He ought to have left then, but he hesitated. “Are you sure you’ll be alright by yourself?”

Merlin’s eyes slid open again. He rolled over, grabbed an empty jug from the table beside his bed, and held it out pleadingly. “There’s water in the other room.” Arthur glowered. It was on the tip of his tongue to refuse, but then Merlin said, “I might sweat myself to death. Just so you know.”

Arthur relented. “Just this once.” He snatched the jug. “And I mean once.”

The noises Merlin let out when he splashed cold water across his face made that tiny streak of Alpha in Arthur all hot and twisting. He excused himself embarrassingly quickly.

*

It was getting to be the mating season, and the King had finally given his blessing for the noble families at court to start vying for the Lady Morgana’s attentions. “Honestly, the number of Omegas I’ve been _casually_ introduced to this past fortnight,” she complained one afternoon after training. “They’re _all_ awful, Arthur. You don’t know how lucky you are.” She froze, midway through unfastening her gauntlets. “No offence meant.”

“None taken,” said Arthur.

“Has he spoken to you about marriage yet?”

Arthur scoffed. “Of course not,” he said. “I think he’s still trying to work out the logistics. Obviously he can’t marry me to an Alpha because then they’d be in charge and we couldn’t have that. He couldn’t _possibly_ marry me to an Omega, because I’m not an Alpha – though honestly I’m not sure how many families at court would care. Take this to be sharpened.” He handed his sword to a squire. “And that just leaves the Betas, which would mean _diluting the bloodline_ even further.” Morgana snorted and beckoned Gwen over to help her let down her hair.

“I take it Merlin’s sick again,” she said.

Arthur froze, fingers fumbling. Ordinarily he would have made a joke about Merlin’s obviously terrible constitution, but now that he was so painfully aware that Merlin’s ‘sicknesses’ just-so-happened to come around exactly once a month he couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t give the game away.

“Is he alright?” There was more than a hint of concern in Morgana’s voice; evidently she was worried by Arthur’s silence.

“He’s fine,” said Arthur. “It’s just a cold. He’ll be on his feet in a day or so, I’m sure.” He cleared his throat and changed the subject. “The Omegas at court can’t all be awful, surely.”

“I’m sure they’re not,” said Morgana. “It’s the chaperones. The whole thing wouldn’t be so dreadful if I could actually talk to any of them directly rather than addressing their chaperones.”

“It’s not like they could leave you alone with them,” said Arthur.

“I _can_ manage to be in the same room as an Omega without pouncing on them, you know,” said Morgana hotly.

“Sorry.” Arthur cringed.

“They’re all so _pretty_ , though,” said Morgana. “And so shy, and timid. You just want to bundle them up and take care of them. There was this one girl, she was so _little_ and I just wanted to pet her like a cat, I swear. I suppose that’s just what Omegas are like.

“I wouldn’t really know,” said Arthur. He saw Omegas around sometimes. They were always chaperoned and they usually dropped their eyes to the ground as soon as they saw him. Timid, yes, but timid by social convention, because even if he wasn’t an Alpha he had the status of one; shy, but not by nature. Pretty, though, they were certainly pretty. Even Merlin was damnably pretty, even if he lacked the decorum of other Omegas. But then again, he was a peasant, and almost certainly not purebred. His blood was probably even more diluted than Arthur.

He pondered asking Morgana if she thought the Omegas at court were timid by nature or convention, but he bit the words back before they could leave his mouth, for she had already changed the subject to Sir Bors’ ridiculous overreaction to being beaten by a _lady_ , could you believe it? Arthur snorted. It was truly, truly absurd.

 

*

Merlin showed up for work the next day more dishevelled and more than a little sheepish. “I mean it really is your own fault for barging into my room like that,” he said. “But sorry. Um. I mean, I’m sorry you had to see me like that.”

“It’s not your fault.” Arthur sat down to eat his breakfast. Merlin smelt faintly of herbs again. “So you’ve been masking your scent?” Merlin nodded, filling Arthur’s cup. “Did Gaius teach you how to do that?”

“No, my Mum did,” said Merlin. He set down the jug. “I think it must be a country thing. I was surprised no one here had heard of it.”

Arthur had had a vague idea that there were almost no Alphas or Omegas amongst peasants. Perhaps he should reconsider. “Do people in the country mask themselves a lot?”

“Mostly for travelling,” said Merlin. “But I have since I came of age. If you live somewhere noblefolk travel through – well, you can probably guess.”

Arthur could guess. “So you mask it?”

Merlin nodded. “Mask it or else hide. There’s nothing I know of to mask a heat.”

“And no one in Camelot’s noticed?”

“Not as of yet,” said Merlin. “The only other person who knows is Gaius.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Arthur sliced into his chicken.

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” said Merlin. “I’m not stupid. I know what happens to unclaimed Omegas.” He toyed with the handle of the jug. “I was afraid you were going to tell.”

“I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?” said Arthur.

Merlin squinted. “Did you? I don’t remember.”

“I’m not an Alpha,” said Arthur. “As much as that seems to confuse you. I’m a Beta, and as such, this whole business really doesn’t have anything to do with me. Though you are my manservant so I’d rather no one else went and _claimed_ you.”

Merlin pulled a horrfied face. “I’m so touched by your concern for my wellbeing,” he drawled.

“Strip the bed,” said Arthur. “The sheets need washing.”

 

*

Morgana turned down all the Omegas at court who were offered to her. She had probably meant it as a gesture of rebellion, but Father was pleased, for it turned out he’d been hoping to marry her off to someone from another kingdom anyway. The resulting argument was quite spectacular. Arthur couldn’t help but wish he hadn’t been in the room – partly because he suspected this meant his father had given up on marrying _him_ off, at least for the time being.

“Well, he can put off marrying you for longer, can’t he?” said Morgana later, while they commiserated in her chambers. “No need to worry that you’re getting frustrated.”

“You are aware that Betas have desires too, aren’t you?” said Arthur.

“It’s not the same,” said Morgana. “You probably wouldn’t understand.” Arthur rolled his eyes. _You wouldn’t understand_. He’d heard that from Morgana more and more often since she’d come of age and he, well, _hadn’t_. 

Most of the court had been expecting Morgana to be an Omega. He wasn’t sure why, since she’d never been the quiet and submissive type. It was just, he supposed, that it had been assumed he and Morgana were going to be a mated pair.

“He’s very set on finding a male for me as well.” Morgana bit her lip as if she’d said too much.

Arthur considered the implications of that. “He has _definitely_ given up on marrying he,” he concluded, dismayed.

“It might be for the best,” said Morgana in a tone that was probably meant to be soothing. “This whole thing has been even _less_ fun than I’m making it sound. He’s not trying to sell you off like a cow yet. _Relish_ it, Arthur.” She rolled the word _relish_ around in her mouth, and waved for Gwen to bring them both some more wine.

*

For the better part of two months, Arthur and Merlin managed to deal with the whole Merlin-being-secretly-an-Omega business by simply never talking about it. When his heat rolled around, they went back to pretending that he was just down with a cold. But then there came an uncomfortably hot summer’s afternoon that found Arthur two days walk from Camelot, with an entire hunting party – half his knights, squires, pages, dogs and beaters – in tow. And Merlin, of course, carrying his bags.

Merlin had been reasonably well behaved that morning, having apparently given up whining about carrying Arthur’s game bags. Merlin never went more than a day without whining or complaining about _something_ , so it really wasn’t much of a surprise when he popped up at Arthur’s elbow and interrupted his conversation with Sir Gareth. “Sire, can I talk to you?”

“Not now, Merlin.” Arthur turned back to the chart they were consulting. “If we cut east –”

“It’s _important_ ,” Merlin hissed. “I need to talk to you.”

Arthur sighed and scrubbed a hand over his sweaty face. “Alright, fine. What’s wrong?”

“I need to talk to you in private,” said Merlin. “About… things.” He cocked in his head in a manner that was probably supposed to communicate something, but Arthur couldn’t be bothered trying to decipher Merlin’s odd little mannerisms today.

He turned back to Sir Gareth. “East, through the Forest of –”

“Sire, _please_.” Merlin grabbed Arthur by the elbow and dragged him away from Gareth, away from everyone, off into the shade of the trees. There was a sudden strength and desperation to his movements that took Arthur quite off-guard. By the time he protested, they were a good thirty feet into the trees.

“Merlin, how _dare_ you –” he sputtered, snatching his arm away.

“Arthur,” Merlin breathed, his tone measured but urgent. “I think I’m going into heat.”

Arthur blinked. It took a moment for the words to sink in to his overheated, confused mind. “What. You mean now?” Merlin nodded. “You’re going into heat _right now_?” Merlin nodded again. Arthur looked back at the clearing where no less than twenty Alphas were milling around. “What the hell are you _doing_?” he hissed. “You _idiot_ , why did you come all the way out here if –”

“Because this wasn’t supposed to happen for four more days,” Merlin gabbled. “And I’m usually really regular, and I’m sorry, I really am, but can we do the blame thing later because I’ve got maybe two minutes before people start to notice and most of your knights are Alphas and I’m _scared_ , alright?”

He was starting to sound out of breath, like he’d run ten miles, and Arthur was starting to be able to smell the heat coming off him. “Alright,” he said. “Aright. No chance you can make it back to Camelot?” Merlin shook his head. “Alright. Take this.” He handed Merlin his crossbow. “And start walking. I’ll be right behind you, alright? I just need to make some excuses.”

“You’re coming with me?” said Merlin, blinking.

“Of course,” said Arthur. “I’m not leaving you alone out here in your condition.” Merlin nodded. “Now get moving.”

Being crown prince had many benefits. One was that if he were to announce out of the blue that he felt like hunting alone for the next day or two and would be re-joining the rest of the party in Camelot, no one could question him, even if they wanted to. 

He found Merlin maybe half a mile away, crouched beside a stream. He was splashing water on his face, hunting equipment dumped on the ground beside him. “How are you doing?” said Arthur, though he didn’t really need to ask. Merlin was almost in full heat. It was already intense enough that Arthur could smell it from ten paces away, even with his weak Beta nose.

“I’ve had better days.” Merlin turned to look at Arthur, movements lazy. “Don’t worry. I’ve done this before. Hidden in the woods, I mean.” He slumped on the grass with a sigh, settling into an ungainly sprawl. He rubbed his face against the cool damp grass, his legs falling over, revealing his straining breeches.

Arthur tried not to look. “How long is this going to last?”

“Maybe two days. Not long.” Merlin’s voice was thick with arousal.

“I’ll make sure you’re safe,” said Arthur. Merlin muttered thanks and rolled onto his stomach. Arthur concluded that he was going to be getting even less sense out of Merlin than usual for the duration of his heat and set about making camp by the stream. He was poking through Merlin’s pack, looking for tent pegs, when Merlin said,

“That’s my bag.” He was starting to slur.

“Yes. I need some things out of it.”

“No.” Merlin propped himself up on his elbows and blinked at Arthur. “I mean. I need. There’s a bottle in there, in the pocket. The little green one.” Arthur groped in the pocket. His fingers closed around a tiny bottle. Merlin let out a sigh and knelt up, movements laboured. Arthur pressed it into his hand, trying not to make skin contact. “Thanks.” He pulled out the stopper and downed the contents of the bottle.

“What is it?” said Arthur.

“Medicine,” said Merlin. “Gaius makes it. It’s supposed to help. With heats.” Arthur asked if it worked. Merlin shrugged. “A little. Dunno. Gaius says it does and he’s very clever. He won’t let me leave the city without it.” He tugged off his neckscarf and squirmed out of his jacket. His boots came off next. One of them caught on his heel and evidently his coordination was even worse than usual because he couldn’t seem to get it off.

Arthur stalked over, knelt down, and worked the boot off. It was twisted around his heel. “You can’t do anything right, can you?”

“I’d like to see you try this.” The boot came off with a pop. Merlin bit his lip. “Will you take my socks off too?”

Arthur obliged, slipping Merlin’s sock off. It needed darning. He rolled it up and put it on the grass. “Are you planning to take off all your clothes?”

He’d meant it mostly as a joke, but Merlin said, “Maybe. You were lucky I was wearing anything that time you walked in on me.” Arthur looked at him, pausing in the act of taking off Merlin’s other sock. “Clothes get. Itchy.” Arthur’s fingers brushed the skin of his ankle and Merlin hissed, a ripple of tension running through his body. He met Arthur’s gaze, his eyes dark and blown with arousal, then looked away sharply.

“I need to finish setting up camp.” Merlin grunted a response and lay back down on the bank of the stream. Maybe an hour later – during which time Arthur had set up a tent and bedrolls, gone through the game bag to select something for dinner, collected firewood, and had ample time to contemplate the prospect of spending two days in the woods with a manservant in full heat – Merlin rolled over and tumbled headlong into the stream, splashing about like a child. The noises he made set Arthur’s stomach prickling.

Once he had hauled Merlin out of the stream, so he wouldn’t accidentally drown himself or catch a cold, he tried very hard to leave him to loll about on the bank. He tried to ignore the way Merlin was rubbing himself through his breeches and the noises he was making. He was, he told himself, better than this. He was a Beta. He had some damn self-control.

By evening, Merlin’s noises were getting more and more pained. “I hate this,” he said, snapping Arthur out of an attempt to mentally catalogue the contents of the royal armoury. “Arthur. I hate this.”

“Good for you.” Arthur looked at Merlin, stretched out and sweaty on the grass. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m gon’ die,” said Merlin. “ _Arthur_. I think I’m gonna die. It’s too hot.”

“You’re not going to die,” said Arthur – though looking at Merlin’s sickly pallor, he felt a flicker of doubt.

“Gon’ die,” said Merlin. “ _Arthuuuur_.” He drew Arthur’s name right out and flopped onto his side, giving Arthur a pleading look. “Will you touch me?”

The scent of Merlin’s heat was suddenly overpowering. “You’re not going to die,” Arthur said, very aware of the hesitancy in his own voice. “Honestly. You do this every month.”

“Well, usually m’on my own,” said Merlin. “Arthur. _Sire_. Please.” He was kneeling up on the grass now, stripping off his shirt, revealing skin that glistened with sweat and looked soft and warm to the touch. 

Arthur’s hands tightened on the straps of his pack. The problem was, Merlin smelled fucking _amazing_ right now, like honey and mead and sugared pears. He wanted to go over there and bury his face in Merlin’s neck and breathe it in. He wanted to run his hands over all that exposed skin. Frankly, he wanted to do all the things Merlin was asking of him and probably more besides.

He went back to toying with the straps. Merlin protested, then went quiet. Arthur turned and saw him sprawled on the grass, eyes closed. “If you’re trying to play dead, you should bear in mind I can see you breathing.” Merlin did not respond. He looked for all the world asleep. “Merlin?” Arthur let go of his pack and tiptoed over. “Are you alright?” He nudged Merlin in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Still no response. “Merlin?” 

Arthur knelt down and, with some trepidation, pressed a hand to the heated skin of Merlin’s forehead. “Mmm,” said Merlin, suddenly stirring. “I’m going to die and it’s going to be all your fault.”

“You’re not going to die,” said Arthur. “And you’re faking it. I knew it.” He tried to move his hand away, but Merlin caught him and held him there, basking in the skin contact.

“Come _on_.” His eyes flitted open. “It _hurts_ , sire. I want it so much it hurts.” He reached down with his other hand. Arthur heard cloth rustle as Merlin unlaced his breeches – and then Merlin sighed as he stroked himself and the smell of heat in the air thickened.

“Lord have mercy,” Arthur choked out. He pressed his face against Merlin’s neck and inhaled. “I’m not,” he said. “I have – self control.” His mouth was somehow kissing Merlin’s collarbone.

“I know,” said Merlin. “Please, sire. Don’t stop.” Arthur’s hands slid down his flanks. He hit the rough cloth of Merlin’s breeches and hesitated before pulling them down to stroke his thighs. His skin was as soft and pliant as it had looked. Merlin sighed and trembled to the touch.

It was alright, wasn’t it? After all, he reasoned, Merlin wanted it. It was painfully evident just how much Merlin wanted it. He was writhing and begging he wanted it so bad. Just a taste, he reasoned. He wouldn’t have to go very far. He pressed kisses down Merlin’s chest, down his tense stomach. By the time he reached his prick, Merlin was shaking all over.

When he sucked on the head of Merlin’s prick, he cried aloud. When he dipped his head lower, kissed the inside of his thighs, he squirmed. He slipped his fingers behind Merlin’s balls, and _god_ , he was wet. Arthur had heard boy Omegas could do this, but that hadn’t prepared him for touching it for himself. It should have been disgusting, but it wasn’t, just disgustingly erotic. His fingers slipped in so easily – two, three, and Merlin was begging again.

“Please, Arthur,” he was saying. “Arthur, please, I want more, I –”

Arthur looked up at his face, saw him pale and drawn out and sweating, and his stomach turned to stone. “Merlin.” He withdrew, pushed himself up, and tried to look Merlin in the eye. Merlin’s head couldn’t stay still. “Merlin. Look at me. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –”

“Don’t _stop_!” Merlin tried to push him back down.

God, he wanted to do it, he really did. But he was not an Alpha. He had more than a lick of self-control. He steeled himself and took hold of Merlin’s face, tried to make Merlin meet his gaze, but he wouldn’t. “Merlin. He need to know you want this. I need to know it’s not just the heat talking –”

“Fuck,” said Merlin, voice all shaky. “Don’t _stop_ , you can’t –”

“I need to hear you say it, Merlin,” said Arthur.

Merlin breathed and looked him in the eye. “I want this. I want _you_. Please, Arthur.” He took a gasping breath. “ _Sire_.”

Arthur hesitated a moment longer, because a part of him was still screaming that he should get up and walk away now before this went any further, because he couldn’t, he _shouldn’t_ , and even if he could, this was Merlin and he was sure it would be painfully awkward after –

“Arthur,” said Merlin in shaky but measured tones. “If you don’t fuck me soon I will scream.” He was looking at Arthur, gaze steady and determined enough that Arthur let himself be convinced. He knelt up, stripped off his jacket, and parted Merlin’s legs. Merlin had stilled in his squirming, gone all pliable. He let himself be opened up. He’d gone quiet, but Arthur could feel him shivering, when he touched his thighs.

Arthur’s fingers pressed up behind his balls again and Merlin said, “Yes, _yes_ , there, _please_ –”

“Good God,” said Arthur, scrambling to unlace his own breeches. “Mother of _God_ , Merlin, you –” His cock pressed up against Merlin’s thigh, skin on skin, and Merlin said words Arthur hadn’t known were in his vocabulary.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , don’t stop, don’t you _dare_ stop –” Merlin thrust his hips up, and Arthur’s cock was sliding in without him really meaning it to. It made a slick, wet sound, and Merlin hissed, then let out a sigh of satisfaction. “Please,” he said. Arthur pulled out and pressed in again. “ _Please_ , yes, like that.”

“Do you have any idea,” said Arthur. God, but Merlin felt amazing around his cock, all hot and wet and perfect, more perfect than he’d known Merlin was capable of. “How good you smell right now?” Merlin’s only response was a sort of keening sound. He shoved up against Arthur’s cock in a wordless demand for _more_. “I’m no,” Arthur gasped out. He clutched at Merlin’s hips, at his waist, trying to find something to hold onto as he fucked. “ _Merlin_.”

Arthur was enjoying himself just fine, but Merlin’s body was a picture of ecstasy. It was downright intoxicating, exhilarating, being able to make him look like that, sound like that. The noises Merlin made, all the desperate gasps and moans, ran together with the wet slapping of their bodies moving together, and Arthur came, squeezing Merlin’s hips tight in his hands. He came messily, half in Merlin and half on his thighs and Merlin _yelled_.

“Good god.” Arthur’s voice shook. He wrapped a shaking hand around Merlin’s cock and squeezed, and that was enough. Merlin yelled again as he came all over himself, writhing. His legs tangled around Arthur’s waist, unbalancing him. He toppled forward, catching himself just in time, hands scrabbling against the grass. 

When Merlin opened his eyes, they were almost nose to nose. He let out a garbled noise that wasn’t quite words. “Same to you,” said Arthur.

“Oh.” Merlin cast an arm over his face. “I forgot how good this is.”

“Are you alright?” said Arthur. Merlin looked up at him. He was shivering all over. Arthur brushed Merlin’s sweaty hair off his forehead, and he shook harder.

“Mmm.” His hands twisted in Arthur’s hair, pulling him down for a kiss, so suddenly that he took Arthur by surprise. Their noses banged together. It took them a moment to get into a rhythm. “You,” said Merlin between happily sucking on Arthur’s lower lip, “Thank you. _Mmm_.”

“You should probably, um,” said Arthur. “Put your clothes back on, or, _mmph_ , or something. I –” Merlin moaned and pushed up against Arthur, his prick hot and hard. “Good grief,” said Arthur. “Are you – again –”

“Well, yeah,” said Merlin. “I’m in heat, that’s how it works.” He nuzzled Arthur’s neck. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, I mean – I just –” He sighed, shifting under Arthur.

“I want to kiss you again,” said Arthur. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Mmm, yes.” Merlin opened up so easily under Arthur’s lips. “You can do whatever you want with me,” he said, half into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur stilled and drew back.

“I don’t want to be –”

“You’re not.”

“– Taking advantage, I mean –”

“You’re not.” Merlin was shaking, but his voice was clear. “If anything I think I might be taking advantage of you.”

“I don’t feel taken advantage of,” said Arthur.

“Neither do I.” Merlin squirmed. His cock pushed up against Arthur’s crotch.

“Do you want me to fuck you again?” Merlin moaned. “Not sure I have the stamina.”

“I just,” said Merlin. “Need _something_. Anything – _yes_ –” Arthur reached down and pressed his fingers back inside Merlin, where he was still wet and streaked with Arthur’s come. “ _Yes_.”

He came with Arthur’s fingers up his arse and Arthur’s mouth on his cock, and then, ever demanding, insisted Arthur kiss him again, and again.

 

*

Merlin slept soundly through the night, and by the next morning his heat was starting to burn off, just low enough to keep him for demanding more sex. He wanted it – Arthur could see that he wanted it – but he insisted that he was fine, and spent the day huddled in the tent Arthur had put up, shivering through the last of his heat while Arthur stood outside and moodily threw stones into the stream, trying not to look at the patch of crushed grass where they’d fucked so exuberantly the night before.

By early evening, Merlin reckoned he was well enough to travel. They managed to exchange barely two words on the trip back, and almost the moment they were through the gates, Merlin retreated back to Gaius’s chambers.

Arthur watched him go, what was surely a sour expression upon his face, and stalked up to his own rooms. He threw his hunting equipment down on the table for someone – probably Merlin – to deal with later and flung himself down on his freshly made bed. He stared up at the canopy, then pressed his hands over his face and let out a growl of frustration.

They’d had a good thing going, he and Merlin. The revelation that Merlin wasn’t a Beta had done little to spoil it. They’d almost been friends, and now everything was ruined, because Arthur hadn’t been able to keep his cock in his breeches.

It wasn’t as if he had forced Merlin, he reminded himself. Though he felt unpleasantly like he had, and though Merlin had been in heat, Merlin had been quite emphatic that he wanted it. Probably he would have wanted anyone who was nearby while he was in that condition – but he had asked for Arthur.

And for all Merlin had been soft and pliable beneath his hands, he had not been submissive – or not the way Arthur had always thought Omegas were supposed to be. The way his knights talked about it, Omegas lie still, flat on their backs, and let their Alphas do as they pleased. Merlin had been noisy, messy, and singularly pushy – actually, he’d been pretty much exactly as Arthur had always imagined Merlin would be in bed. Not that he’d spent a significant amount of time imagining how Merlin would be in bed.

He slept fitfully, but fortunately seeing Merlin the next morning went a long way to alleviate his guilty feeling. Unfortunately, it did nothing to alleviate the awkwardness. If Arthur had thought seeing Merlin for the first time after walking in on him in heat was awkward, seeing him after fucking him was something else entirely. Merlin shuffled into Arthur’s chambers bearing the breakfast tray like a peace offering. He smelled of herbs again, every trace of his heat scrubbed away. They didn’t meet each other’s eyes. Arthur tried looking at his chest instead, but that only drew his gaze to the place where Merlin’s neckscarf wasn’t quite covering the mouth-shaped bruises on his neck.

Merlin set down the breakfast tray, and Arthur, with blessed relief, looked at his food. “So, um,” said Merlin as Arthur ate. “Do we want to talk about what happened?”

Arthur considered. In the cold light of the morning, with Merlin standing before him, evidently not angry, he did not feel nearly so bad. His memories of the sex itself were succumbing to a kind of rosy, blurred glow. Perhaps it would be alright to simply never talk about it. But then there’d been that strangely broken look on Merlin’s face once his heat began to die down. His stomach twisted uncomfortably.

“Because we can never talk about it if you’d rather,” said Merlin. “But I thought you should know I told Gaius.”

Arthur looked up sharply and stared at Merlin’s innocent face. “You told Gaius I shagged you. You _told_ Gaius –”

“I had to!” Merlin interrupted. “Well, I had to tell him I went into heat, and then I had to tell him you know I’m an Omega, and then – it sort of came out. Sorry.” Merlin paused. “He wasn’t happy.”

“That I know –”

“No, I think he trusts you not to tell,” said Merlin. “He wasn’t happy I let you – do the thing. He, er, thinks I should be waiting for my mate.” Arthur cringed. That hadn’t even occurred to him. “Er. This is the first I heard that he thinks I have a mate. We disagreed quite a lot. I didn’t tell him you’re not the first Beta I’ve played around with, do you think I should have?”

Arthur’s head was still reeling at all that information. For some reason the first question that came out was, “Playing around? Is that what we were doing?”

“Oh!” Merlin’s eyes widened. “No, Sire, I didn’t mean it like that –”

“And what other Betas have you been _playing around_ with?”

“Just friends,” said Merlin. “Back home in Ealdor.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “What? I had friends who knew what I was and they wanted to take care of me when I was in heat, and things tend to escalate. You may have noticed.”

Arthur toyed with his knife. “Right.”

“You don’t think I should be saving myself, do you?”

“I think you can do whatever you want,” said Arthur. “Though I’d rather you didn’t come on any more extended hunting trips.” Merlin’s face fell. “For your own safety.”

“I can handle myself,” said Merlin. “I’m not an idiot, no matter what you seem to think. I know what I do to people.”

“What you do to Alphas,” Arthur corrected.

Merlin shrugged. “Works on Betas a little, too.”

Some last vestige of Arthur’s desire to be an Alpha stung. He realised that underneath it all, he’d been feeling almost proud of himself, for having been with an Omega – for having been affected so by an Omega. He’d been thinking of himself as special. He turned back to his breakfast. “So you don’t think you have a mate, then?” Merlin shrugged. “Have you ever – with an Alpha –”

“No,” said Merlin quickly. “No. I’m not sure I want to.”

“It’s supposed to be better.” Alphas had more stamina, certainly. He suspected he hadn’t really satisfied Merlin the way an Alpha would. But Merlin was only a servant, so he refused to let the idea bother him.

“Maybe,” said Merlin. “It’s just. Well.”

“It’s just what?”

“When we were – together,” said Merlin. “If I’d asked you to stop, you would’ve, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course,” said Arthur without hesitation.

“I don’t know if an Alpha would’ve,” said Merlin. “I don’t know if I’d have been able to stop if you’d asked me. Not without – not that it would have mattered. I mean, you’re stronger than me. I’m not a threat to you, not the way –”

Arthur pictured himself fighting Merlin off, and shut him up. “I get the idea,” he said. “Now get to work, will you?”

 

*

 

They fell back into their old routine almost at once; Merlin whining about his chores instead of doing them, Arthur scolding him and teasing him, Merlin giving as good as he got. They never talked about what had happened between them. Arthur began to develop a certainty that Merlin regretted it – regretted letting his nature get the better of him. Regretted the loss of control. Arthur knew that he regretted it. He told himself as much daily. It had been naught but a regrettable accident.

And yet. The memory would keep coming back at the strangest moments. Merlin standing by the window of the armoury early in the afternoon – the way the sunlight had moved across his skin while Arthur fucked him. Merlin pleadingly saying his name when he wanted to get off work early – the way Merlin had said his name as he begged Arthur to touch him. Merlin’s fingers brushing his skin while he was dressing him – the feeling of Merlin’s skin under his hands. Arthur wrapping a hand around his prick and jerking himself off at night once the candles were out – god, every second of it, for all he felt guilty after.

The better part of a month flitted by, and Arthur, at last, broached the subject. “So,” he said. “What are you planning to do during your next heat?”

Merlin paused in his adjusting of Arthur’s bed sheets. The back of his neck turned pink. “Um. What I usually do?”

Arthur’s heart sank a little, but not a lot. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to. It had just been an idle thought. “Alright. Yes, of course.”

“Why?” Merlin turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Were you –”

“Was I – no,” said Arthur. “I was just curious, since last time – you got caught out in the woods.”

“I’ll need a couple of days of work again,” said Merlin. “That’s all.”

“You do that,” said Arthur. “I’ll, er, make do without you.” The look of utter confusion on Merlin’s face, Arthur thought, settled it. Merlin had thoroughly put the whole business out of his mind and wanted know more to do with it.

Three days or so later, he dismissed Merlin for the evening with a promise to see him in a couple of days, when he felt up to working again, only for Merlin so slink back into his chambers a few hours later. “Didn’t I send you home already?” Arthur snapped at the sight of him lingering in the doorway.

“Um,” said Merlin. “Yes. But I’m back. Hi!”

“What, did you forget something?” said Arthur.

“No,” said Merlin. “I just thought I’d. Come back here for a while.” He tilted his head to the side in a gesture that was probably meant to communicate something of great importance.

“Whatever you’re trying to say, you’d best just say it,” said Arthur.

“I’m going into heat tomorrow morning,” said Merlin.

“I’m aware of that,” said Arthur dryly.

“I was wondering if you’d mind if I,” Merlin swallowed. “Stayed the night.”

“What are you suggesting?” said Arthur. Merlin did the head-tilt again. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Um,” Merlin stuttered. “Sex?”

Arthur stared at him, frozen in his seat. “You want to have sex again?” It came out far more accusatory than he’d meant it to.

“I’ll just leave, shall I?” said Merlin hurriedly. “I’ll just leave.”

“No,” said Arthur, clambering out of his chair. “You – stay.” Merlin paused with his hand on the door. Arthur crossed the room and took him by the wrist. “Stay. I – me too.”

Merlin smiled. Then he took hold of Arthur’s shirt and kissed him in a way that almost knocked him right off balance. He staggered, then took Merlin by the waist and pulled him closer. “Oh, God,” said Merlin between kisses. “Mmm. Can I – stay here tomorrow?” Arthur’s hands slid under his shirt and he gasped. “I’ll be quiet,” he said breathlessly as Arthur stripped off his scarf and jacket. “You can hide me behind the bed curtains if anyone comes in.”

Arthur kissed him again to make him be quiet. “We’ll figure out the logistics tomorrow, alright?” His hands slipped inside Merlin’s shirt and brushed the little bag of herbs he kept there. He stilled. “Can I –”

“Oh!” Merlin wriggled out of Arthur’s grip, dipped a hand down inside his shirt, and tugged out the herbs. “It smells good, though. See?” He pushed the bag up against Arthur’s nose.

Arthur flinched back. “Good god, that’s pungent.”

“Well, yeah. Has to smell strong.” Merlin tossed it aside and pulled Arthur close again.

It wasn’t until Arthur tumbled Merlin into bed that he realised just how much he had wanted this. Wanted Merlin pinned underneath him again, laughing. Wanted Merlin’s eager hands pulling at his clothes. Wanted Merlin. He didn’t understand how someone so clumsy and frankly obnoxious could be so alluring – maybe it was just that Merlin was an Omega, but he didn’t think so. He wanted to say all that, and more besides, but he didn’t dare. He said it with his lips instead, dropping kisses down Merlin’s neck and along his collar bones.

“You’re too skinny,” he said.

“Nuh-uh,” said Merlin. “You’re getting fat.” He poked Arthur in the side, then yelped as Arthur dragged his shirt roughly over his head. He pulled his own shirt off and leaned down to kiss Merlin again, their bare torsos pressing together. Merlin’s mouth was so pliant, so easy to kiss. He’d have been happy to keep doing that all night, but Merlin had other ideas. “Mmph,” he said, pulling back. “Can I suck you off? Sire.” Arthur shivered.

“Well, if you’re offering,” he said, faux-casual. “I’m hardly going to say no, am I?”

“Thought you might want to skip to the fucking part.” Merlin’s hands toyed with the laces of Arthur’s breeches.

Arthur leaned down and murmurred into Merlin’s ear, “We’ve got all night.” He mouthed at the shell of Merlin’s ear, tracing it with the tip of his tongue, and Merlin shivered.

Then he was urging Arthur to lie on his back and trying to pull down his breeches all at once. Arthur couldn’t help but laugh at how eager he was – but then Merlin’s mouth wrapped around his cock almost without warning and his head fell back against the pillows with a grunt.

“You’re disturbingly good at this,” he said after.

“Well, you tend to end up with a lot of experience,” said Merlin. “When you’re like me.” He was curled up beside Arthur, one hand toying with his chest hair. “You’re fuzzy. I like it.”

“Were the others Betas you’ve been with not _fuzzy_?”

“Not as fuzzy as you,” said Merlin, either oblivious to or ignoring the derision in Arthur’s voice.

Arthur had only ever been with Betas before. It was still strange to him that he could not only smell Merlin, but smell that he was sated. He smelled satisfied. Spent. But there was an edge of sweetness to it – an edge that, even to Arthur’s less-than-keen senses, said _always available_. But Merlin was not available. Merlin was on the brink of falling asleep. His eyes were slipping closed as Arthur watched. He stroked Merlin’s hair away from his forehead and wondered what it would be like to have your body outright betray you like that.

It hit him, then, as he was drifting off to sleep, just what it would have meant for him to be an Alpha, and he breathed a sigh of intense relief.

 

*

Arthur was woken the next morning by a wet sensation that he blearily recognised as Merlin’s mouth, sucking at his ear lobe. “Hmm?” he said, blinking.

“Mmm,” said Merlin in response. “G’morning.” He nuzzled Arthur’s neck.

His skin was warm to the touch. He smelled sweet. “I take it you’re in heat already?” Arthur was a touch disappointed to have missed the transition from normal Merlin to insatiable Omega Merlin.

“Only a little,” said Merlin. “Well, maybe a lot.” His lips pressed hot kisses against Arthur’s jawbone. Arthur slid a hand around to pet his back. He stroked down Merlin’s spine to his arse. His fingers slipped, without him meaning them to, in between Merlin’s cheeks. Merlin hissed at the sensation, and then without warning he was straddling Arthur, pinning him down on the bed. He was shaking. The scent of his heat burned. 

Arthur cursed himself for taking what they’d been doing for harmless morning cuddling. Of course it wasn’t, for Merlin was an Omega going into heat, not a Beta. “I’m going to ravish you now,” said Merlin. His tone was probably meant to be matter-of-fact, but his voice shook.

“Oh, you’re going to ravish _me_ , are you?” said Arthur. Merlin’s grip tightened on his torso with that unnatural strength his heat gave him – and good God he was really serious. It wasn’t as if Arthur wasn’t interested. He just also wasn’t properly awake yet. “Um. Do I have any say in this?”

“If you really want me to stop you might have to fight me off,” said Merlin. His lips brushed up against Arthur’s, and then his tongue was pressing fiercely into Arthur’s mouth. Arthur’s sleepy brain melted, and he went with it. “M’sorry,” said Merlin when he drew back. “M’sorry.” His face pushed against Arthur’s neck and his scent filled Arthur’s nostrils. “I woke up and you were kind of all over me. Sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Arthur squeezed Merlin’s thighs. Merlin groaned. “It’s alright, I want – oh God.” Merlin wrapped a hand around his cock, and he was sitting back, positioning himself.

When Merlin pushed down Arthur swore, but he was all but drowned out by the noise Merlin made. For a moment or two he was almost incoherent, or at least Arthur couldn’t get any response to his desperate requests for Merlin to _move, damn it_ , move _already_. “Come _on_ ,” he said, gripping Merlin’s hips, urging him to move. Merlin seemed quite content to sit on Arthur’s dick and bask. “I thought you said you were going to ravish me.” His voice shook a little. God, but Merlin was as perfect as he remembered. They never had got to the fucking part the night before; this was the first time since – _ah_.

Merlin moaned and rocked his hips, just once, and then again, and then he was fucking himself on Arthur’s cock while Arthur urged him on. He sat up, wrapping his arms around Merlin’s waist and pulling him closer; his cock slid in even deeper and Merlin whined. He kissed Arthur, messy, then groaned into his mouth as Arthur started thrusting up into him. 

“Please,” he said, still half-kissing Arthur. “Please, sire –” Arthur was never sure if he should admit to what being called _sire_ in bed did to him. “I need,” Merlin was saying. “Sire, I need – you need to come first – I can’t –” Arthur pushed his face into Merlin’s neck and breathed deep. Then he came, cock pulsing inside Merlin, and Merlin’s back arched at the sensation. “Yes – that – _please_ –”

He came without Arthur even needing to touch his prick, his body clenching around Arthur’s softening cock, and for a moment of almost frightening intensity, Merlin was everything. Merlin went limp on top of him, knocking all the breath out of him, and they both lay gasping on the bed. A few minutes went by, and with an effort that looked torturous Merlin pushed himself up on his elbows so he could look Arthur in the eye – and that look said, without question, _I am **so** not done with you_.

It was a few hours before Arthur made any attempt to extricate himself. Merlin was laying half on top of him, temporarily sated. He wasn’t holding on particularly tightly, but when Arthur tried to roll him off, his grip suddenly tautened. “Mmm,” he sighed. “No.”

“I have to go,” said Arthur. “I have things to do.” Merlin shook his head and held on even tighter. “ _Merlin_. Stop that. You’ve already made me late.” He tried to pull away, but succeeded only in dragging Merlin across the bed. “Let go, you goddamn limpet.”

“No,” said Merlin, face pressed into Arthur’s chest, voice muffled.

“I’m serious. I have important things to do.”

“ _I’m_ an important thing to do,” said Merlin. Arthur tried to wrench his arms off his chest. Merlin squirmed and wriggled and gripped him by the neck instead.

“Since when,” said Arthur as they wrestled, “are Omegas so aggressive?”

“Since you’re a really good pillow,” said Merlin.

“I’m not your pillow!” Arthur snapped. He managed to pin Merlin down to the bed. He went all limp and pliable at once.

“Yeah, like that,” he said. Arthur released him and clambered off the bed. “Arthur?” said Merlin, his tone suddenly frantic. “Don’t go!” He rolled over and looked beseechingly at Arthur. Arthur ignored him and began to dress himself. Smallclothes, shirt. Yesterday’s breeches were still clean enough. “Don’t do that,” said Merlin. “Clothes. Bad. No.”

“I was supposed to be in the council chambers an hour ago,” said Arthur, dragging on a hopefully-clean shirt. And good grief, did he smell of Omega? Perhaps he should swipe Merlin’s herbs. “I can’t very well go naked, can I?”

“Come back to bed,” said Merlin. “I’m sick. You’re sick We’re both sick.” He was gripping the edge of the bed as if he might fall.

“I’m not faking sick for you,” said Arthur.

“Come back and fuck me again?” said Merlin.

“Not going to happen.”

Merlin made noises of frustration. “Why _not_?”

“For a variety of reasons,” said Arthur. He laced his breeches and began to count off on his fingers. “One: I have important princely duties to attend to. Two: as much as I hate to admit it, I think it’ll be a while before I can get it up again. And three: stop making that face, will you?”

Merlin did not stop making the face. “Fine,” he said, tone tragic as if Arthur were leaving him forever. “Be that way. Leave me here _all day_. I shall die and it’ll be all your fault.”

“You’re not going to die,” said Arthur as he adjusted the sleeves of his jacket. “Want to know how I know?” Merlin shrugged. “Because I looked it up in a book. Can Omegas die of being in heat? No, they can’t. So there.”

“Just because a book says it doesn’t mean it’s true,” said Merlin. “One of Gaius’s books says leeches are a good cure for – hey!” Arthur began to briskly draw the bed curtains.

“I’ll make sure to tell the steward I don’t want my room cleaned today,” he said. “But stay quiet if anyone comes in.”

“I hate you,” said Merlin, peering up at him from the shadows within the bed.

“Yes, I hate you too,” said Arthur fondly. “You don’t mind if I borrow your herbs, do you? I smell of you.” Merlin shrugged again, still glaring at Arthur darkly. “Excellent. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He closed the bed curtains, leaving a chink so Merlin would have a little light and hastily departed.

Despite Merlin’s complaining, and his being so appallingly late, Arthur couldn’t help but be in a good mood on his way to the council chambers. Not even his father’s blandly dismayed look when he came in or Morgana squinting at him and whispering, “Why do you smell all herby?” could dampen it.

“I’m trying out something new,” Arthur whispered back. “Like it?”

She wrinkled her nose. “You smell like you’ve been rolling in the kitchen garden.”

At the ending of the morning – which passed abominably slowly – Father asked them both to come to his chambers for lunch. Arthur excused himself as delicately as he could. “I need to go back to my rooms,” he said. “Just for a few minutes. I’ll see you shortly.”

“Why?” said Morgana. “It’s not like you need to change.”

“She’s right,” said Father. “Come along, Arthur. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

“No, you see,” said Arthur, racking his brains for a suitable lie. “I need to check on – Merlin. My manservant.”

Morgana quirked an eyebrow. Father said, “What on earth for?”

“I left him polishing my chainmail,” said Arthur. “I need to make sure he’s doing it properly. He’ll slack off if he thinks I’ll be gone all day.” Father stared at him, muttering something about lack of discipline, but he waved Arthur away.

The bed curtains were still closed, but even so, it was just as well he had made sure no one would come in. He could smell Merlin’s heat from a good twelve paces away. He walked gingerly across the room and twitched a curtain inside, peering into the red depths of his bed. “Good afternoon.”

“Mmph.” Merlin was sprawled face down against the pillows. “Arthur? Wasn’t sure that was you.” He opened his eyes and squinted vaguely upwards, blinking as if Arthur were bright as a lamp.

“You better not be ruining my bed sheets.” Arthur tugged the curtain open and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I take it you didn’t die?”

“It was close,” said Merlin. Arthur reached out to stroke his hair, trailing his fingers through it. Merlin sighed, leaning in to his touch. “M’tired.”

“Please. You’ve been lazing about in bed all morning. I’ve been off doing important princely things.” He shifted his hand down to the back of Merlin’s neck, where his skin was hot. Stroking there made Merlin make some interesting noises.

“You were sitting in a room with a bunch of fat old men talking about damn all,” said Merlin, voice half muffled by the pillows. He shifted under Arthur’s hand. “Mmm. Take your clothes off and come back to bed now?”

“I can’t.” Arthur’s hand trailed down Merlin’s spine. He couldn’t help himself. Merlin’s skin was silky-soft when he was in heat, or maybe all the time. He was too skinny by half, though. Arthur swore he could feel every knob of his spine.

Merlin hissed and sighed. “Why not?”

“My father wants me to eat lunch in his chambers,” said Arthur. “I don’t have time to stay. I just came to make sure you were alright.”

“I’d be a lot better if you weren’t t-teasing me.” 

Arthur’s hand stilled on the small of Merlin’s back, fingers curling against his skin. “I’m not teasing. I’m petting.”

“I’m in heat. Everything’s teasing,” said Merlin. “D’you have any idea how good your bed sheets – oh god.” Arthur’s hand slid down over Merlin’s arse. “Arthur, _please_.”

“I’ll stop,” said Arthur, taking his hand away guiltily. “I’m sorry. Will you be alright for another hour or two?”

Merlin shifted about on the bed, turning to face Arthur. “No.”

“Well, you’ll have to be.” Arthur’s fingers brushed Merlin’s cheek. Merlin flinched. “Are you really sensitive right now?”

“You’re lucky I’m so tired, I’d have jumped you by now,” said Merlin. “Your hands are nice and cool.” He closed his eyes and basked.

“Arthur.” Arthur gave his hair one last ruffled and stood, ignoring Merlin’s protests. “I promise I’ll be as quick as I can. Then you can do whatever you want with me all afternoon. I’ll get out of training.” He’d taken a fall yesterday, he could always say his ankle had begun to hurt in the night.

Merlin muttered something inaudible into the pillows. “Mmm. G’bye.” His eyes flitted closed, and Arthur closed the curtains about him quietly, as if he was sleeping. Then he hastened out of the room and down the corridor. He’d taken longer than he’d meant to. Father and Morgana were already eating by the time he stumbled into the King’s chambers.

“Oh, there you are at last,” said Father.

Arthur drew up a chair and gestured for an attendant to serve him lunch. “I wasn’t gone that long,” he said.

“How’s Merlin getting along?” said Morgana.

Arthur blinked, stupefied. “Merlin?”

“With your chainmail?” Morgana arched an eyebrow.

“Oh! Yes. Fine. He’s doing a decent job.” Arthur broke his bread in two. “I think he’s learning.” He turned to his father. “I’m sorry for my lateness. This morning as well. I – have no excuse. I overslept.”

“It’s of no matter,” said Father. “Though you must teach that boy some discipline.”

The conversation continued in a pleasant enough vein for the better part of an hour – the training of new recruits for the castle guard, the most recent news sent by Sir Gareth on the northern border, Lord Avery’s upcoming marriage – before Father said, “While we’re on the subject of marriage –”

Arthur’s heart plummeted. “Not this again,” said Morgana. “No, Uther. My answer hasn’t changed.”

“You have plenty of time to reconsider,” said Father. “I’ve arranged for a delegation from Carmarthen to come next month. They say the Prince of Carmarthen is –”

Morgana slammed down her goblet. “No. I refuse. I’ll choose my own mate.”

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t at least consider –”

“ _No_ ,” Morgana snapped. “I won’t be forced to –”

“– really, you have your responsibilities to consider as well as –”

“– _Degrading_ –”

“– Your own wants, and –”

Arthur looked from one to the other. Morgana’s chest was heaving. His father’s voice was nearing a snarl. The sensation of being caught between two furious Alphas was becoming all too familiar. He was torn between dual impulses to be as quiet as he could and maybe hide and to – “Am I to take this sudden obsession with marrying off Morgana to mean you’ve given up on me?”

Morgana gave him a look that was equal parts fury and gratitude. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Arthur,” said Father, suddenly calm as could be.

“You haven’t said a word about marriage to me, but suddenly you’re set on Morgana marrying,” said Arthur. “Marrying a _male_. Can I just confirm that you are, in fact, aware that Betas can breed?”

“I haven’t given up on you,” said Father.

“Well, that’s a relief.”

“I am merely,” said Father. “Waiting for the right time.”

“Which would be,” said Arthur. “What, when I miraculously go through a second puberty?”

“ _Which_ would be when I find a suitable mate for you,” said Father. “Your status – complicates things.”

Arthur gave Morgana a _see, I was right_ look. “And what exactly would constitute a suitable mate?”

“Somebody neutral,” said Father.

“So you just want me somewhere out of the way? Is that what you’re saying?” He had only meant to divert the conversation away from Morgana, but things were rapidly spinning out of his control.

“What I want is for you to do your duties,” said Father. “And unfortunately since you’re just a Beta you can’t expect to –”

“Arthur isn’t _just_ anything!” Morgana snapped.

“Morgana, don’t –” Arthur tried to break in.

“And I _refuse_ to be your broodmate,” said Morgana. “You will _not_ treat me like your – _Omega_!”

“How _dare_ you –”

“Oh will you both just _stop_.” Arthur stood up, shoving his chair away from the table with a screech of wood on flagstone. “This whole thing is frankly absurd. I’m going to my chambers. I don’t want to be disturbed.”

“Arthur, really,” Father said as he left. But just as the door was falling closed behind him, he heard Morgana say,

“Oh, let him go.”

And so he went, storming away down the corridor. He calmed quickly, but he was still seething a little when he reached his chambers. It wasn’t until he had shut and locked the door behind him that he realised he could hear Merlin moving around. 

He pulled back the bed curtain. Merlin was rubbing himself off against the bed sheets, letting out mewling sounds of pleasure. He didn’t seem to have noticed that Arthur was there, so he took a moment to watch quietly before saying, “I meant it about ruining my bed sheets, by the way. You’ll be the one washing them.”

Merlin startled, squirming, and rolled over to face him. “ _Please_ tell me you’re back for real now.”

Arthur sat beside him and ran a hand down his back. Merlin sighed and arched. “I left lunch early. We had a slight disagreement.”

Merlin grabbed at him, trying to tug him into bed, his fingers scrabbling at Arthur’s shirt. “Why are you still wearin’ clothes?”

“Give me a moment.” Arthur stripped off his shirt and jacket, toed off his boots, and rolled onto the bed, pinning Merlin down the way he seemed to like. Merlin moaned and pushed up against him, his cock rubbing against the skin of Arthur’s stomach, wet at the tip. The sensation drew a gasp out of Arthur. He pressed his lips against Merlin’s neck, breathing him in, and felt Merlin’s hands gripping his back.

“ _Sire_ ,” he breathed. “Fuck me. Please?”

“Oh, God,” said Arthur. “Give me a minute.” He disentangled himself from Merlin’s arms, shushing his protests, and wriggled out of his breeches and his smallclothes. Their bodies pressed together, and at the skin-to-skin contact, Merlin sighed. Arthur felt him open up, legs falling apart. His eyes were closed tight. Arthur could feel him shaking. “Are you alright?” Merlin didn’t answer. “Hmm?” He cupped Merlin’s face in his hand.

His eyes blinked open. “M’fine,” he said. “I’m good. Arthur. I’m good.”

Arthur breathed out his relief and took a moment, stroking Merlin’s face until he began to fuss again. He mumbled something only semi-coherent and pushed up against Arthur. Their pricks rubbed together. Arthur burned.

“Alright, alright,” he said as he reached down to nudge Merlin’s thighs apart. “I’m getting to it.” He lifted Merlin’s balls, squeezing them gently, then felt behind them, checking he was – yes – wet. Merlin groaned and Arthur felt him clench beneath his fingers. “ _God _.” He crawled down Merlin’s body, hands trailing across Merlin’s ribs, making him squirm. “I’m going to lavish you with compliments now.” He kissed the inside of Merlin’s thigh. “Try not to die from shock.” Another kiss, this one more lingering.__

__Merlin whimpered. “I hate you,” he said, voice shaking as Arthur’s tongue trailed up his inner thigh. “Why’d you have to be such a – _ahh_.” Arthur bit down gently, right at the place where Merlin’s thigh met his groin.”_ _

__“You’re gorgeous,” said Arthur, ignoring him. “You’re more attractive than you have any right to be, I hope you know that.” Merlin whined. Arthur slid two fingers up inside him, testing. He was still loose from Arthur’s cock that morning. _Yes_. “You feel amazing inside,” he said. “You’re all hot and –” Merlin clenched again, practically swallowing Arthur’s fingers. _ _

__“ _Please_ ,” said Merlin. Arthur pushed a third finger in. “Stop teasing,” Merlin shook out. “I hate you.”_ _

__“I’m not teasing,” said Arthur as he drew his fingers in and out of Merlin – he let out a gasping breath with every little thrust. “I’m playing around. Isn’t that what you said we were doing?”_ _

__Merlin kicked at him. “I hate you.”_ _

__“You missed,” said Arthur with a smirk. He pushed his fingers in as deep as they would go and Merlin kicked him again, more forcefully. His foot collided with Arthur’s ribs – not hard enough to really hurt, but definitely hard enough to get his attention._ _

__“Come _on_ ,” he said desperately, then, tone a mite more measured, “ _sire_.”_ _

__Arthur’s stomach twisted. He had a horrible suspicion Merlin had guessed what saying that title in bed did to him – but it could wait until later. He pulled himself back up the bed and kissed Merlin on the mouth. Merlin’s legs closed, squeezing Arthur’s thighs tight. “You’re so impatient,” said Arthur, reaching down to line himself up._ _

__“Well, you’re –” Arthur’s cock slid into him and he let out a series of wordless, incoherent sounds._ _

__“What was that?” said Arthur. Merlin’s hands gripped at his back, clutching at him. _More_. Arthur groaned, pulled back, and thrust in again. God, but he’d been right to hold off. It had been good in the morning, but now that he was fully awake and alert, it was _incredible_ , Merlin opening so easily for him, so soft and pliant, the sounds he made like honey and the sweet, heavy scent of his heat burning around them._ _

__For a moment it was as if Merlin’s body was clay in his hands, as if Arthur could reshape him however he wanted – but then Merlin’s grip tightened on his back, his shoulders, clinging on, and he was pushing up, up against Arthur. His hips shifted, pulling Arthur’s cock even deeper, drawing a noise out of him that would have been embarrassing had it not been drowned out by Merlin saying, “Yes, _there_ , yes –”_ _

__Arthur sucked in desperate breaths as Merlin moved against him. He could feel every movement in his gut, in his chest, all the way up through his throat, as if Merlin were enveloping his whole body._ _

__Merlin let out a grunt of frustration, his fingers scrabbling at Arthur’s back. “ _Please_ ,” he said. “Need – you have to –” It was as if every word was a struggle. “Need you to come in me – _Arthur_ –” He pushed up and his body _squeezed_ and Arthur came so hard he could feel his balls throbbing and he wasn’t sure he was quite in control of his limbs. _ _

__Merlin was almost sobbing as he came, his whole body shaking. His grip on Arthur didn’t loosen, not even after. He clung on tight even as the tension began to leech out of him. “You goddamn limpet,” said Arthur, fond. Merlin’s response was to nuzzle at Arthur’s neck until he turned his head for a kiss. “Mmm.” He drew back and thumbed Merlin’s lower lip. “You feeling better now?” Merlin made a noise like _arsghhlhjgh_. “Yes?” said Arthur. He nudged gently at Merlin’s arms, until, with great reluctance, he let go. “Mmm. You lovely thing, you.” _ _

__Merlin mumbled something into his neck._ _

__“What was that?”_ _

__“Wanna lick you all over,” said Merlin, voice rough._ _

__“What? Everywhere?” said Arthur. Merlin’s tongue was already tracing the lines of his neck._ _

__“Mmm. Yeah. Wanna lick your balls,” Merlin breathed. “Can I lick your balls?” His lips closed around Arthur’s earlobe and began to suck._ _

__“Well, this just got.” Arthur gulped as Merlin’s tongue found a sensitive spot. “A little strange.” Merlin slipped further down the bed, sliding under Arthur. His tongue was on Arthur’s nipple, curling in his navel, and then, with a happy sound, he was lapping at Arthur’s balls. Arthur concluded, as his fingers clenched in the bed sheets, that he should probably just go with it._ _


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I do quite like that it’s possible to fuck you into _literal_ incoherence. Seems to be the only way to get you to shut up."

Tiring Merlin out had been quite a feat. It was getting to be evening by the time Arthur had gotten him so much as dozing, and naturally he stirred as soon as Arthur tried to get up. “Where’re you going?” he said fuzzily.

“Lord, are you still awake?” said Arthur. “I need a piss. Go back to sleep.?

“Don’t have to get out of bed to do that,” said Merlin.

“I really think I do,” said Arthur.

“You can piss on me if you want.”

Merlin blinked up at Arthur, his face altogether too innocent. “Go to sleep,” said Arthur eventually.

He did not go to sleep. He was still awake when Arthur came back to bed. “M’thirsty,” he said.

“Get yourself some water, then.” Arthur picked up his shirt from the floor and began to put it back on. Merlin made exaggerated flopping movements like a drowning fish. “You’re putting it on now.” Merlin stilled and looked up at him pleadingly. “ _Fine_. Just let me get my breeches on?”

“You’re leaving again?” said Merlin, morose.

“No,” said Arthur as he poured out a cup of water. “I just have some papers to look over. And you look exhausted. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Things are starting to hurt,” Merlin agreed as he dragged himself into a sitting position. Arthur handed him the water. He gulped down the whole cup and handed it back for more.

“I suppose I can leave you to your own devices for a bit, then?” said Arthur as he refilled the cup. Without waiting for a response, he said, “Good.” He shoved the cup at Merlin and went to his desk.

“I hate you,” said Merlin half an hour or so later as Arthur rifled through documents he was supposed to have read and signed.

“I hate you too,” he said.

Merlin continued his squirming. “M’thirsty again.”

“If I come over there are you going to drag me back into bed?” said Arthur.

“No,” said Merlin. “Well, maybe.”

Arthur sat, quill poised to sign his name. “I really do need to get this finished.”

“Fine. You do that. I’ll be over here.” There was a dramatic pause. “ _Dying_.”

“Oh, drop it,” said Arthur. Merlin’s response was a wordless noise followed by what sounded like him wanking himself. Arthur glared at the petition he was trying to read for a long moment, the words forming a blockish blur, then threw down his quill and went to the door. “I’m sending for dinner.”

It was another half hour of struggling through his petitions before there came a knock on the door and a soft call from the kitchen maid. “Can you be quiet?” he said to Merlin as he drew the bed curtains.

“I hope your balls rot off,” grumbled Merlin.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Arthur snapped the curtains shut and tried to act casual while he dismissed the kitchen maid – who had, surely, noticed that he had sent for enough to feed two and kept giving him coy looks. He hoped dearly that she hadn’t noticed that the room smelled of Omega. You could hardly smell it from the door, and she was a Beta, so she’d likely never smelled heat before.

Merlin was still glowering when he opened the curtains. “I asked them to bring extra,” said Arthur by way of reconciliation.

“Can we shag again now?” said Merlin.

“When we’ve eaten,” said Arthur. A thought struck him. “Have you eaten since breakfast?” Merlin shrugged. “You should eat. I’m sorry, I should have made sure –”

“M’not hungry,” said Merlin. “M’in heat. I’m only hungry for your _cock_.” He looked beseechingly at Arthur’s crotch. Arthur stared down at him, confounded by how his heat could make him so alluring and so thoroughly unsexy at the same time.

“I’m not bedding you again till you eat something,” he said. Merlin groaned and buried his face in the pillows, but with a little more coaxing he sat up and let Arthur feed him. “Stop licking my fingers,” said Arthur.

“You have really dainty hands,” said Merlin.

“No, I don’t,” said Arthur, affronted. Merlin started sucking on his fingers. “Stop that!”

“I ate something!” said Merlin.

Arthur shoved some bread into his mouth. “Eat more.” It took a while – and much more cajoling – to get a meal’s worth of food into Merlin, though he welcomed two more cups of water. He was eager as ever to get Arthur’s cock inside him – and then, at long last, he seemed to be tired out. He lay curled amidst the sheets, sleeping soundly enough that Arthur could pry himself out of bed and put his clothes back on without arousing any further protests.

It was dark outside when he stirred again. Arthur was dressed and at last making some reasonable progress with his paperwork when he heard Merlin’s groan of displeasure. “Oh, God.”

“You alright?” Arthur glanced at the bed and saw Merlin struggling to push himself upright.

“Thirsty again,” said Merlin, shivering.

Arthur fetched him some water. “Are you cold?” Merlin shrugged, then nodded. Arthur draped the rumpled bed sheet around his shoulders. Merlin snuggled into it gratefully. “Do you want to –” He imitated Merlin’s silly head-tilt.

“Sort of. Yes and no, but mostly no,” said Merlin. Arthur must have looked puzzled, for he went on. “I’m tired and I ache. You do your princely things. I’ll just. Be over here.” Arthur could not for the life of him concentrate on important documents with Merlin naked in his bed, but he put on a show of sitting down and flicking through them while Merlin sipped his water. “So what were you and your father squabbling about?”

“We weren’t _squabbling_ ,” said Arthur.

“I thought you said you were?” said Merlin.

“I believe I said we disagreed.”

“Like I said. Squabbling,” said Merlin. “What was it about?”

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, a lot of things. He’s trying to marry off Morgana. You’ve probably heard.” Merlin mumbled an affirmation. “Well, he’s very set on finding a male Omega for her.”

“So?” said Merlin.

“So?” Arthur turned to look at him. Merlin shrugged, his expression one of honest confusion. “Oh, for – _so_ that means he wants _her_ to produce an heir. Because he doesn’t think _I’m_ up to the job.”

“Ohh!” said Merlin. “What, because you’re not an Alpha?”

“Something like that.” Arthur leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Lord, but it had been a long day. “I don’t know. It just makes things so difficult sometimes. It would be easier if I were an Alpha. Hell, sometimes I think it would be easier if I was an Omega.

“Oh, yes,” said Merlin, deadpan. “Your life would be _so_ much easier if you were an Omega. I mean if I weren’t an Omega I wouldn’t be sitting here in cold sweats while I come down from a heat, or –”

“You know what I mean,” said Arthur. “It’s different for you.” Merlin fixed him with a hard, furious stare. “It’s different for you!”

“You want to trade?” said Merlin. “Cause I would _love_ to be a Beta.”

“It’s _different_ for you,” Arthur said firmly. Merlin kept on glowering. “Alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I’m sorry.” He gave up on his paperwork and sat beside Merlin on the bed. “I’m sorry. You’re right, and Morgana’s right. There’re things I just don’t understand.” He petted Merlin’s hair. Merlin leaned into his touch.

“It’s like there’s two of me,” he said. “There’s normal Merlin, and then there’s the Merlin who comes along two days out of the month who’s a total pervert and does regrettable things all the time.” It was on the tip of Arthur’s tongue to ask _am I a regrettable thing_? But Merlin went on. “Like jumping on you this morning. Sorry about that.”

“Hmm?” Arthur tugged the sheet up where it was slipping off Merlin’s shoulder.

“You seemed a bit out of it this morning, when we – I mean, I was a lot out of it, but still. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright.” Arthur scratched Merlin gently behind the ear. He seemed to like that. “I didn’t mind.” Merlin mumbled a response, nuzzling at Arthur’s hand. Arthur didn’t bother asking him to repeat himself. “I do quite like both Merlins,” he said after a while. “You’re both equally obnoxious, anyway.”

“Mmm?” said Merlin, smiling.

“Can I ask, though,” said Arthur.

“Can you ask what?”

“Early. When you said I had to come in you before –”

“Oh, that,” said Merlin. He turned to look at Arthur properly, adjusting his sheet. “That’s a thing that happens sometimes.”

Arthur waited for him to go on. He did not. “Care to elaborate?”

“There’s not really much else to say,” said Merlin. “Sometimes when I’m in heat, this thing happens like – everything seizes up – and I can’t come until whoever I’m with comes. Not all the time. But sometimes.”

“Uh-huh.” Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again, trying to formulate a response to that odd little nugget of information.

“Take it as a compliment,” said Merlin. “It only happens when it’s really good, right?”

“Right,” said Arthur, drawling the word out.

“I think it’s meant for Alphas, really,” said Merlin. “You know. To make sure –”

“So what you’re saying is,” said Arthur slowly. “If you can’t come when I’m fucking you, that means I’m doing as good as a job as an Alpha would?”

“Yeah, I suppose,” said Merlin.

“But if I make you come first, that means I’m not doing so well?”

“Yes?” Merlin sounded less than certain.

“I fail to see how that’s a compliment,” said Arthur.

Merlin was silent for a long moment. He blurted out, “You have a really amazing cock.”

Arthur stared at him. “Thank you,” he said. “I – how’s that relevant, exactly?”

“I don’t know,” said Merlin. “S’a compliment.” He flopped down on his back. “Will you come back to bed?”

“Will that make you stop trying to compliment me?” Arthur tugged off his shirt.

“Maybe,” said Merlin. He sighed as Arthur wriggled into bed alongside him.

“You’re going to have to clean these sheets,” he said. “They’re getting sticky.”

“Hey, you helped make them sticky,” said Merlin, curling under the blankets.

“You invited yourself in!” said Arthur.

“Well, you were hinting that you wanted me to,” said Merlin. Then, suddenly uncertain, he said, “Weren’t you?”

“ _Obviously_ ,” said Arthur. “I’m surprised it took you so long to catch on.”

“I caught on right away, I just wasn’t sure I’d heard you right,” said Merlin. “I didn’t.” He stopped short of whatever he was going to say.

“Didn’t what?” Arthur nudged him.

“I didn’t think you were interested.” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that! I was in heat. _Everyone_ is attracted to Omegas in heat. I didn’t think you’d stay interested after.”

“I thought I was just the nearest warm body,” Arthur mused.

Merlin snorted out a laugh. “Seriously?”

“I take it I was wrong, then?”

“Most of the time.” Merlin edged closer. They were almost nose to nose under the blankets. “It’s just. You’re special.”

“Special?” said Arthur. “That’s what you’re going with?”

“Mmm,” said Merlin. He cupped Arthur’s face in his hand and kissed him, kissed him softly, as if to demonstrate just how special he was. Though it might just have been a ploy to distract him. After he drew back, Merlin began nuzzling at Arthur’s neck, urging him to roll onto his back. Then he rested his head on Arthur’s chest with a happy sigh.

“Oh, don’t do that again,” said Arthur.

“Do you want me to get any sleep tonight?” said Merlin grimly.

“Well, that would be preferable.”

“Then you have to be the pillow,” said Merlin. “Goodnight.”

“Are you seriously doing this?” said Arthur. Merlin didn’t answer. “I have more work to do tonight, you realise.” Merlin still didn’t answer. “Stop pretending to be asleep!” Merlin mumbled and nuzzled at Arthur’s chest, but gave no other response. It occurred to Arthur that perhaps he really was asleep. He wasn’t quite sure he dared check. After a few long minutes of terrified stillness, he reached up and squeezed Merlin’s shoulder. There was no response. But still, he didn’t dare try to get up in case he woke Merlin.

It wasn’t as if he actually _wanted_ to finish working. He settled in for the night, wrapping an arm around Merlin and toying with his hair.

Back in the days when Arthur had fully expected to become an Alpha at any moment, he had given quite a lot of thought to Omegas. Alphas his own age had talked about them constantly. Older Alphas less so – but the way they talked about their own mates, Arthur had got the impression that having an Omega to call your own was something akin to having a pet that you could fuck.

Of course, he’d realised how awful that notion was long before Merlin had come along, and nowadays listening to the unmated Alphas talk about what they’d do to their Omegas when their got their hands on them made him nauseated rather than excited – but still, the strange aggression Merlin was capable of whilst in heat had taken him off guard. Not to mention his constant stubbornness and general refusal to _shut. Up_. the rest of the month.

On one of the rare occasions he’d spent any significant amount of time in the presence of an Omega, her Alpha had been able to quiet her with a look. He’d always assumed that submissiveness was an innate trait of Omegas, just like Alphas were invariably aggressive. That was how it was. That wasn’t how Merlin was. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t purebred, or because Arthur wasn’t an Alpha. But that didn’t feel right. Perhaps an Alpha would be able to bring some hidden submissive streak out of Merlin, but he couldn’t imagine Merlin lying back quietly during sex.

It wasn’t just that Merlin was so damn pushy. Between what he had picked up from the Alphas and what he’d been taught, Arthur had always had the impression that Omegas had their heats for the sake of Alphas, not for the sake of themselves. The way people talked, Omegas in heat were receptacles for pleasure. And yet the last day had been all about Merlin. His heats were intense and thoroughly active forces that sometimes made Arthur feel like a damn plaything. 

Or, right now, like a pillow with inconvenient opinions. Merlin sighed and snuffled against his chest before stilling again. Arthur wouldn’t put it past Merlin to spend the whole night sleeping atop him. He couldn’t bring himself to wake him and make him move. 

Well. It wasn’t truly uncomfortable. He closed his eyes and settled down to sleep, Merlin’s breath gently tickling his chest.

*

When he woke, a stray elbow jabbing into his ribs, Merlin was still asleep. Milky dawn light was filling the room. Arthur lay in bed, gazing up at the canopy, until his urge to use the chamber pot overcame his desire not to wake Merlin. He managed to get out of bed and use the pot without waking Merlin, but when he was climbing back in, Merlin stirred and opened his eyes, blinking, squinting in the light.

“Good morning,” said Arthur. “It’s early. Go back to sleep.”

“You woke me up,” said Merlin. “Y’moved.” He groped at Arthur, hand roaming across his chest. “You brought this on yourself.” His lips were on Arthur’s neck, exploring with a sense of urgent intent.

“Merlin, it’s the crack of dawn,” said Arthur, pushing him away. “I’m going back to sleep. I’ll make it up to your later. I promise.” He rolled over, shut his eyes, and attempted to will himself back into unconsciousness.

Behind him, Merlin let out a shuddering kind of sigh and shifted across the bed. Arthur tensed, but he was just snuggling. He rested his chin on Arthur’s shoulder. “M’sorry.”

“It’s alright,” said Arthur. “It’s alright.” Merlin mumbled breathily against his ear, and was quiet. Arthur let himself drift off, dozing. He wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but he must have done, for he woke up some time later to an empty bed. He was momentarily panicked, as if Merlin might have somehow fallen out or gotten lost, until he was awake enough to look around the room. Merlin was at the washstand, splashing water on his face.

“Morning,” he said, a little sheepish in the face of Arthur’s disgruntled look. “Someone knocked on the door. I didn’t answer.”

He must be better, if he was walking around, but he was still very much in heat. Arthur recognised the pink flush of his skin. “You seem to be feeling better.” He sat up in bed.

“A bit.” Merlin wiped water off his chin and toyed with hair, feeling the places where it was spiked up damply with sweat and – if Arthur was going to be bluntly honest – probably come. Ew. “Um. Can I ask you a question?” Arthur gestured for him to go on. “Yesterday.” Merlin stopped and started again. “Yesterday, while I was – did I say – did I ask you to piss on me?”

Arthur blinked. His kneejerk response was to say that no, of course he hadn’t – but come to think of it, he had a bit. “Ah. Sort of. Not in those words,” he added hastily as Merlin covered his face with his hands in deepest shame. “You didn’t ask me to do it so much as say I could if I wanted to.”

Merlin peered at Arthur between his fingers, radiating mortification. “I am so, so sorry.”

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not,” said Merlin. “I get strange. When I’m in heat. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

“You do get quite strange,” Arthur agreed. “You were very keen on licking my balls.”

Merlin stared at him. “Oh, God. Is that weird? That’s weird, isn’t it?” His face vanished behind his hands.

Arthur laughed, kicking off the sheets and climbing out of bed. “It really is alright. It was nice enough and you seemed to be enjoying yourself.” Merlin made a horrified noise. “It’s _alright_.” He took hold of Merlin’s shoulders and kissed his forehead, clumsily, half in his hair. Merlin hesitated, then leaned forward into his embrace.

“Sorry for being such a weirdo.”

“Well, you’re a weirdo I get to have an awful lot of sex with, so I’m not complaining.” Merlin huffed a laugh against his shoulder. “I’m going to send for breakfast now.”

“Then more sex, right?” said Merlin.

“Yes, then more sex.” He sent Merlin back to bed and stumbled into some clothes. It took him a few minutes to find someone to bring breakfast, then a few more to sell them a story about his ankle flaring up. “I shall need to rest all day,” he said. “But don’t worry. I’ll be better by tomorrow. I guarantee it.” He turned and limped theatrically back up the passage to his chambers.

All in all, he was away long enough that Merlin had vanished betwixt the sheets by the time he got back – and by the noises he was making, he was having a very pleasant time under there. “Didn’t take you long to start playing with yourself.”

“Mmm,” said Merlin. “The bed smells like you.”

“Are you sure that’s not yourself you’re smelling? I don’t smell like much of anything.”

“Yeah, you do. It smells like you.” Merlin buried his face in the pillow with a happy sigh. Arthur’s mouth dried up.

“Breakfast should be here soon,” he managed.

He managed to resist the temptation to get back into bed with Merlin until they’d both eaten – and if he hadn’t already known that Merlin’s heat was dying down, it would have been obvious from the fact that he did not protest at being made to wait. “Are you off to do princely duties later, then?” he said as he finished off his bread and honey. Arthur had specifically asked for the honey for him. It had proved easier to coax him to eat sweet things.

“No, actually,” said Arthur. “I’ve had a message sent. As far as the rest of the castle’s concerned my ankle’s injured and I’m resting. You have me all to yourself.”

“You couldn’t have done that yesterday?” Merlin finished eating, sucked honey off his fingers, and lay back on the bed, looking expectant.

“You’re very demanding, you know,” said Arthur.

“Well, yeah,” said Merlin. “You try feeling like you’re going to die if someone doesn’t shag you and see how _demanding_ you get.”

Arthur considered this. He left the rest of his breakfast for later and joined Merlin in bed.

“Mmm,” said Merlin as he ‘helped’ Arthur take his shirt off. “I think you said something about making it up to me for making me wait?”

“I said nothing of the sort.” Arthur swatted Merlin’s hands away and dragged his shirt over his head properly.

“Oh? Well, let’s pretend you did.” Merlin beamed up at him. His arms looped around Arthur’s neck and dragged him down. He kissed Arthur sloppily, tongue dipping into his mouth.

Arthur would have liked to have kept on kissing him, because it was nice, even if Merlin was a tad uncoordinated, and because after the exhausting day he’d had yesterday he’d have been quite happy to laze around in bed all day – but as soon as the kiss deepened and his hands slid down Merlin’s torso, petting, Merlin made a desperate noise into his mouth. “Alright, alright.” Arthur tried to pull back, but Merlin refused to relinquish his lower lip. “Mmf. Make up your damn mind. Where’d you want my mouth?”

Merlin looked up at him, evidently confused. Then he understood. “Oh, fuck.” He unwound his arms from Arthur’s neck and pushed on his shoulders. “ _Please_.” Arthur kicked the blankets away and crawled down the bed. Merlin was spreading his legs, and he was properly hard already, red-hot in Arthur’s hand.

This wasn’t something he’d done that many times before, but he had an inkling Merlin wouldn’t much care. He kissed his way down Merlin’s stomach. Merlin hissed and said, “Don’t you dare, don’t you _dare_ tease – _oh_ –”

Arthur sucked in the head of his prick. Merlin’s whole body jerked, then went still, legs falling open as if in submission. “Yes. _Yes_ ,” he breathed. “Oh god, _more_.” Arthur drew back a little, tongue lapping across Merlin’s foreskin – he gasped – then pulled back slowly, Merlin’s cock slipping out of his mouth.

“See what I mean? _Demanding_.”

“Don’t _stop_!” said Merlin. Then, with a coy look in his eye, “Please. _Sire_.” Arthur shuddered, a hot sensation twisting in his stomach. “Sire. Please. I want it, Sire –”

“Stop it,” Arthur choked out.

“I knew you liked it when I called you that.” Merlin grinned.

“Not a word,” said Arthur. “Don’t you _dare_ –” Merlin just laughed. Arthur swallowed his cock back down and sucked hard in an attempt to shut him up, but it only worked for a moment. Merlin yelped and squirmed, but then he was laughing again, a hand twisting in Arthur’s hair.

“Oh, yes,” he was saying. “Yes, yes, _yes_ –” He came in Arthur’s mouth, and Arthur swallowed, partly because he was taken off guard and partly because, despite himself, he quite liked it.

Merlin was still laughing when he worked his way back up the bed. “Shut up,” he said. “Why’re you laughing?” He nudged at Merlin’s chin.

“Can’t stop,” Merlin gasped. “And your breath smells like cock.” That set him off again.

Arthur sighed and climbed off the bed. “I suppose I shall have to wash it out, then.”

“Fine,” said Merlin. “Leave me all alone here.” Arthur turned to look at him. He was already playing with his softening prick, apparently fascinated with himself.

“You look very comfortable.”

“I love your bed. I may never leave it.” Merlin relaxed back against the pillows with a grin.

“Oh, you’re going straight home as soon as your heat finishes,” said Arthur as he poured a cup of water.

“I knew you only wanted me for my body,” said Merlin. It ought to have been a joke, but his tone was absent, slightly troubled.

Arthur joined him on the bed, running a hand down his chest, and said, “What are you frowning about?”

“I’m not frowning,” said Merlin, though he was. “It’s just. That is it, isn’t it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Arthur kissed his shoulder, trying to urge things back into safer territory.

“People don’t actually _like_ me,” said Merlin. “I just – smell really good.”

Arthur sat up a little, propping himself on his elbow. He wasn’t sure what to say to that – because it wasn’t true, it really wasn’t, and some embarrassing part of him melted at the idea of Merlin thinking that and wanted to lavish him with compliments again, but another part of him didn’t dare do anything of the sort for fear of swelling Merlin’s head. The internal battle raged for a moment.

Merlin said, “I mean, I’m kind of weird-looking, aren’t I?”

“I’m not going to argue with that.” Arthur pressed another kiss to Merlin’s collarbone.

Merlin shivered. “People in my village, though,” he went on. “People who knew what I was, they didn’t even look at me. They just knew they wanted me.”

Arthur paused with his mouth on Merlin’s neck and one hand caressing his chest. “Did any of them ever –” He wasn’t sure why he was asking. What was he going to do, ride back to Ealdor and hunt them all down?”

Thankfully Merlin said, “Nah. There’s a lot of Betas. They kept an eye on me. And the herbs helped.”

“That’s good,” said Arthur. “I mean, I’m glad none of them hurt you.”

“So am I,” said Merlin. He dipped his head and suddenly his mouth met Arthur’s, tongue sliding in softly. “You promised me all day,” he said between kisses. “You better keep that promise.”

“I damn well will,” said Arthur – though as Merlin moaned and rolled on top of him, straddling him, he wondered exactly what he had just agreed to.

*

About three hours later, there came a firm knock on the door. “I better answer that,” said Arthur. Merlin said something too muffled for Arthur to make out. It was muffled because his face was buried in Arthur’s groin. “Pardon?”

Merlin lifted his head and rested it on Arthur’s thigh. “I said can’t you ignore them?”

“That’ll only worry them,” said Arthur. “I’m supposed to be injured, remember?” He pushed Merlin off and scrambled out of bed before he could protest any further.

He found, as he walked across the room, that his legs were shaky and he ached and chafed in awkward places, especially once he had forced his breeches back on. He took a few deep breaths, smoothed down his hair, and opened the door a crack. Gaius was standing in the corridor, squinting up at Arthur, eyebrow raised. “Ah, Gaius!” He stepped outside and pulled the door to behind him. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Well, I had heard that you had an ankle injury. Although,” his eyes flicked up and down Arthur’s clearly intact body. “You seem fine.”

“Oh, well,” said Arthur. “You see, it’s fine provided I only walk a little. If I stay on my feet for too long, that’s when it gets bad.”

“I see,” said Gaius. “I trust my apprentice is taking good care of you.”

It took Arthur half a second to collect himself. “Yes, as good as can be expected. And I’m taking good care of him.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” said Gaius. “Though I would advise caution. He does get sick so often, and it makes him – delicate, shall we say?”

Arthur contemplated reminding Gaius that he knew what he was talking about, and Gaius knew he knew, and so on into infinity, but thought better of it. “I am taking excellent care of him, thank you very much. You can leave now. I need to rest my ankle.”

“Yes, yes,” said Gaius. “You _rest your ankle_.” He gave Arthur his terrifying eyebrow and stalked away. Arthur slipped back into his chamber, closed the door, and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hmm?” said Merlin from the bed.

“It wasn’t anything important,” said Arthur. “Although – can I ask. Do your heats – do they _affect_ Gaius?”

Merlin raised his head and stared at Arthur, scandalised. “Why would you say that?”

“I was only asking!” said Arthur. “And – do they?”

“No! No, they don’t!” said Merlin. “If you really must know, I asked him once and he said he’s too old but – ew. _Ew_. No!” He tossed a pillow in Arthur’s general direction. Arthur laughed and threw it back at Merlin’s head, hitting him dead-on. Merlin groaned a futile, muffled groan. “Can we never speak of Gaius while I’m naked and in heat again?” he said as Arthur rejoined him in bed.

“Gladly,” said Arthur. He ran a hand down Merlin’s naked back, tracing the dip of his spine. Then he leaned over and pressed kisses down the same path. As he edged lower and lower, Merlin’s sighs edged into breathy moans. He reached the small of Merlin’s back, one hand reaching up to cup his arse, and lingered there, tracing circles with his tongue until Merlin squirmed.

“Your mouth is amazing,” he said, a dreamy note in his voice.

“Damn right it is.” Arthur spread Merlin’s legs roughly – he squeaked – and pressed a kiss right at the crease where his arse met his back. He hadn’t meant to go any further than that, but the noise Merlin made was so lovely and the smell of his heat was so intoxicating that Arthur mentally shrugged and pressed his mouth against Merlin’s hole.

“Oh god,” said Merlin, words falling from his lips in a rush.

“Mmm. Good?” said Arthur.

“Oh _god_ ,” said Merlin. Arthur heard his head fall forward against the pillows. He whined happily as Arthur’s tongue dragged over his hole – he tasted just like he smelled, it was incredible.

He drew back and said, “You can call me Arthur.” Merlin’s only response was a wordless but disgruntled moan. Arthur rolled his eyes, parted Merlin’s cheeks, and kissed him there again, pushing his tongue inside, as far in as he could get it.

Merlin let out a short cry. He was shaking all over. Arthur had never done this before – he’d heard of it, but never quite had the nerve to try it out until now. There was a kind of confidence in being with someone so easily pleased. It didn’t seem to matter what he did to Merlin. Everything got a cheerful and enthusiastic response. Hell, Merlin probably would have enjoyed being pissed on. But that wasn’t a pleasant thought. He shoved it to the side and set about rimming Merlin was thoroughly as possible.

Merlin’s breath came rough and desperate the whole time. Every tiny movement Arthur made seemed to make him tremble. After a while he was shoving back against Arthur’s face. Arthur took that as a demand for more, pulled back, and pushed three fingers into Merlin before he could complain at the lack of Arthur’s tongue.

He wiped his mouth with his free hand and took a moment just to look. He couldn’t see Merlin’s face, but he could see the back of his neck – flushed – and his hands – clutching the pillows, knuckles white. He eased his fingers in and out slowly until Merlin’s grip on the pillows began to tighten. 

He dragged his fingers out and rolled Merlin over. “What do you want? Do you want my cock in you?” Merlin made a strangled noise that wasn’t words. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.” 

Merlin’s legs coiled around his waist, pulling him in so suddenly that he lost his balance. He caught himself on his elbows and pushed himself up hastily. When he regained his balance, Merlin was staring him right in the eye. His gaze was hot. “Alright, have it your way,” said Arthur. He nudged Merlin’s thighs apart and reached down to line himself up.

He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of that feeling, of his cock sliding into Merlin for the first time – he was so hot inside, and wet like a girl – and though his muscles clutched and pulled Arthur’s cock in, swallowing him up, he gave too, gave so it was like sinking into a warm bath –

“Fuck,” he said. “ _Merlin_.” He rested a hand on Merlin’s tense thigh. “I’m gonna fuck you now.” He pulled out and shoved in again. Merlin was so wet he could hear it, a slick sound of skin on skin. His hands gripped Arthur’s shoulders, his back, trying to get a decent hold as Arthur thrust again, and again.

Then his hand was on Arthur’s neck, his face, making him look – and Merlin’s eyes were open, and he was looking Arthur straight in the eye, his gaze wild, but so happy and open that Arthur felt his hips stutter and his balls clench. “ _Fuck_ ,” he choked out again as he came. It slammed through him like a bolt of lightning – _one, two, three_ and he was panting in the afterglow.

Merlin must have done that on purpose, because he came right after, sighing his relief, clinging on to Arthur so he couldn’t pull out. Arthur said as much. “You did that on purpose.” His voice came out slightly slurred. “I suppose that means I was doing a good job?”

“Mmmafgdhh,” said Merlin.

“You know,” Arthur said as he propped himself up, surveying Merlin. “I do quite like that it’s possible to fuck you into _literal_ incoherence. Seems to be the only way to get you to shut up.” 

Merlin’s response was a swift and surprisingly forceful punch to the ribs. Arthur laughed – and clutched his ribs, because it had hurt more than he cared to let on. “Ow.”

Were Merlin capable of stringing enough words together, he’d probably have said _serves you right_ ; as it was he looped an arm around Arthur’s neck and pulled him down, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck with a contented sigh.

Slightly – only slightly – to his disappointment, Arthur seemed to have managed to fuck most of Merlin’s heat out of his system. Once he’d got his breath – and his ability to speak – back, Merlin was more or less himself. He ate lunch without needing any cajoling at all, Arthur’s bedspread draped around his shoulders. “I’m _hungry_ ,” he said. “You should have made me eat more. Gaius is always saying I should eat more when I’m in heat.”

“I was practically force-feeding you!” Arthur snapped. “Honestly. You didn’t _want_ to eat.”

“Gaius says my body needs more food while I’m in heat,” said Merlin. “Which makes sense, if you think about it.”

Arthur settled himself on the bed beside Merlin and ran a hand down his spine, where it was covered by the thick fabric of the bedspread. Merlin shivered, then flinched. “Well, _sorry_.” Arthur held up his hands.

“No, it’s just,” said Merlin. “I’m a bit fucked out at the moment.” He shifted and winced. “ _Ow_.”

“Sorry,” said Arthur, sincerely this time.

“No, it’s alright,” said Merlin brightly. “It’s the good kind of hurt, y’know? I haven’t had someone to spend my heat with in way too long.” He wiped his bread around the edge of his plate, mopping up his meat juices. Arthur lay back on the bed with a huff. His muscles were aching too, not that he had any intention of admitting as much. Merlin finished his lunch and set his plate on the floor with the breakfast dishes. “So, what happens now?”

“Until next month, I suppose,” said Arthur. Merlin didn’t reply. He looked up and winced at Merlin’s expression. “I mean. I didn’t mean it like that. If you want –”

“Of course I want.” Merlin lay down beside him, all snuggled in the bed sheet. He said, hesitantly, “I’ve always wanted.”

“Really?” said Arthur with a smirk. “Always?”

“Well, not always,” said Merlin. “You are an _utter_ prat and the first time we met you threw me in the dungeons – but you weren’t so bad once I got to know you.”

“I damn well hope so,” said Arthur. He tugged at the bedspread. “Give me some blanket, will you?” Merlin struggled, but eventually Arthur prevailed and Merlin was forced to relinquish half the bedspread for Arthur to lie under.

“I’m going to have to wash all this, aren’t I?” said Merlin, lounging with his head on Arthur’s stomach.

“Mm-hmm.” Arthur stroked the back of Merlin’s neck idly. “I did warn you.”

“Have mercy. I’ve been sick, remember?”

“Alright, fine,” said Arthur. “I’ll have someone else wash the sheets. I wonder what they’ll say when my bed sheets stink of Omega?”

Merlin screwed his eyes shut and groaned. “I hate you. Wash your own damn bed sheets.”

“That’s your job.”

“I thought we’d made a _connection_ here.”

“You’re still my manservant.”

Merlin groaned again. His hand idly stroked Arthur’s flank. It was a funny thing, Arthur thought. Just a few days ago things had been unspeakably awkward. Hell, a little over a month ago the whole idea of sex with Merlin would have been downright laughable – or at least that’s what he would have said had anyone asked. But now here he was, lounging naked in bed with his manservant and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Merlin snuffled against his belly. “Alright,” he said, eyes closed. “If you get me out of cleaning up I promise blow jobs forever. Deal?”

Arthur sputtered out a laugh.

*

It wasn’t long before Merlin deemed himself suitably well rested. He pushed himself upright – jabbing his hand painfully into Arthur’s stomach in the process – and suggested Arthur send for a bath. Well, ‘suggested’ was an understatement. “ _Mer_ lin,” said Arthur. “I’m the one in charge. Which one of us is the prince here?”

“Well, fine,” said Merlin. “We can sit around stinking of sex for the rest of the day if you’d rather. I thought you didn’t want anyone to notice you were smelling of Omega is all.”

Arthur considered this. Then, with exaggerated protests, he dragged himself out of bed and into his clothes. Fortunately it only took a few seconds of shouting into the corridor to bring a servant running. “There,” he said, slamming the door. “A bath has been ordered. Are you happy now?”

“Blissfully happy.” Merlin grinned at him and lolled against the pillows.

The bath came in due course and Arthur had to draw the curtains around Merlin again lest he not be seen. He hoped the servant who lugged in the water didn’t notice the smell of Omega. If he did, he hid it well. “You can some out now,” Arthur said once the servant was gone. Merlin was already opening the curtains. He clambered off the bed, wrapped snugly in Arthur’s bedspread.

“What?” he said when Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I get cold.” He walked over to the bath, trailing bedspread behind him like a cloak.

“You’re getting that dirty,” said Arthur.

“So? I’m the one who has to clean it, aren’t I?”

Arthur scowled, displeased to find that he was stumped for an answer. “Oh, like you want to make extra work for yourself.”

“I don’t really care,” said Merlin. “Can I have the bath first?”

Arthur gestured for him to go ahead. “Since we’re clearly dispensing with protocol all together.”

“I think we dispensed with protocol around the time we started shagging.” Merlin shrugged off the bedspread and slid into the bath with a sigh.

“I’m going to have to bathe in your dirty water and I’ll _still_ smell like you,” said Arthur.

“Send for another bath,” said Merlin. “And wash my hair?” He rolled his head back and looked at Arthur balefully.

“You are the worst manservant I’ve ever had,” said Arthur. He didn’t take much care not to get soap in Merlin’s eyes as he lathered up his hair, but Merlin did not protest at the occasional stinging.

“I’m the best manservant and you know it,” he said. Arthur dunked his head under the water to rinse. He came up sputtering and said, “You’re not good at this.”

“Neither are you,” said Arthur. “And move over.” He stripped off his clothes and climbed into the tub, ignoring Merlin’s protests that there was no room.

After a few awkward elbow-jabs, they got settled with Merlin in Arthur’s lap. Arthur washed his back lazily, tracing the knobs of his spine. “That tickles.”

“You’re ungodly sensitive,” said Arthur. Merlin sighed and leaned back into him. “Don’t go to sleep. I need you to wash me.”

“Wash yourself, you lazy lump,” said Merlin. But he obliged, once Arthur forced the washcloth into his hands. He washed Arthur all over, and then Arthur returned the favour.

“Mmm,” said Merlin. His lips pressed against Arthur’s forehead, right at his hairline. “I think I’m clean now.”

“You could probably be cleaner,” said Arthur. Though really, Merlin was right. He didn’t smell of heat any more. He smelled mostly of soap.

Merlin’s nose brushed against his. Arthur was expecting him to say something, but he said nothing. He felt Merlin’s breath on his lips and he was reminded once again just how new this was, this thing that was happening between them. He ran his hands up and down Merlin’s slick back, tracing the lines of him.

“I should go home,” Merlin said a few minutes later, bundled up in a blanket. “Back to Gaius’s, I mean.”

“You don’t want to stay another night?” said Arthur.

“No offence,” said Merlin. “But I really want to sleep in my own bed. I’ll see you in the morning?” He picked around the room in his blanket, fetching his clothes.

Arthur checked him over once he was dressed, making absolutely sure he didn’t smell of heat. “I think you’re good,” he said, hands lingering on Merlin’s waist.

“You did clean me very thoroughly,” said Merlin. Then, taking Arthur by surprise, he dipped his head forward and pressed a kiss to Arthur’s lips. “Mmm. G’night.” Then he was gone, and Arthur was alone in his rooms, with sheets that still stank of sex and Merlin’s heat – but he could not find it in himself to be annoyed.

*

He was half expecting it to be awkward as hell the next morning, but Merlin was casual as ever. He woke Arthur by prodding at his shoulder. “You need to get up so I can wash your sheets.”

Arthur looked up at him. He was dressed and bright-eyed and shaved, not so much as a shadow beneath his eyes to show for his heat. “How do you have so much energy?” he snapped.

“I dunno. Take it as a compliment,” said Merlin. He nagged Arthur till he got out of bed, then whipped away the sheets and brought back fresh ones. The heat-covered sheets would be returned a few days later, remarkably clean and fresh smelling. Arthur did not, at the time, think to question it.

He met Morgana in the armoury later that morning. She was already dressed for practice, just buckling on her gauntlets. “Oh, there you are,” she said. “Ankle all better, then?”

Arthur froze. It took him a moment to register that it was a genuine and sincere question, not a subtle dig at the fact that he’d spent the last two days buggering his manservant. “Yes,” he said. “Just needed a day’s rest. It’s fine now.” He made a show of testing it, just as Merlin blundered into the room, back from the laundry.

“Sorry, sire,” he said. “I’m here now.” He set about fetching Arthur’s armour, stacking the various pieces precariously in his arms.

“Well, you missed a few things,” said Morgana, adjusting her hair. “Yesterday was an eventful day. The delegation from Carmarthen will be here the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s awfully soon,” said Arthur, dismayed.

“Don’t sound so dismayed,” said Morgana. “You’re not the one who might have to marry them. This is going to be vile. I know it is.”

“It could be worse,” said Arthur. “At least you’re not an Omega.” Merlin raised an eyebrow at that. Arthur shrugged in response.

Morgana did not seem fazed by the question at all. “If I was an Omega, Uther would probably have mated me to you and had done with it,” she said. “Even if you are a Beta.”

“Would that have been better?” Arthur asked.

“Oh, probably,” said Morgana. “I mean –” Her speech ground to a halt as both of them simultaneously imagined the prospect of being mated to each other. 

The last time Arthur had seen Morgana in a state of undress they had been ten years old and swimming in a stream in the summer. He pulled a horrified face. “Now that’s a flattering look,” said Morgana. “Ugh. You’re not that appealing yourself.” She tucked the last few strands of hair away and held out a hand to Gwen for her helmet. “I shall see you on the practice field.”

*

The next couple of days were remarkably un-awkward. He and Merlin talked freely and easily, as if Arthur hadn’t spent the better part of two days with his dick up Merlin’s arse – actually, they talked freer and easier than before, what with their new intimacy.

Then came the delegation. Arthur missed their arrival because he was out in the woods on patrol. By the time he came back it was almost evening and he’d not so much as laid eyes on them. “I’m sure it won’t be that bad,” said Merlin as he dressed Arthur for dinner with the foreign Queen and Prince. “I saw them in the courtyard. They seemed nice enough.”

“It’s Morgana and my father I’m worried about,” said Arthur.

Merlin pulled a face. “Alright, that’s fair.” He finished buttoning Arthur’s jacket and patted it flat, his hands lingering.

“Are you done touching me?” said Arthur.

“Almost.” Merlin gave Arthur a contemplative stroke. “Annnd now I’m done.” He relinquished Arthur’s chest. “Alright, let’s get you to dinner.”

It was to be a private affair, to introduce Morgana to the Omega, and naturally Arthur had to be there in his capacity as Crown Prince. He was a few minutes early. Only Father was there. He greeted him politely, seated himself, and let Merlin fill his wine cup.

Morgana burst in scarcely a minute later, dressed in red, her face set as if for battle. “Uther,” she said curtly as she sat down.

“Ah, Morgana,” said Father. “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear I’ve seen the boy and he’s as lovely as they say.”

“Because that’s all one looks for in a mate, of course,” said Morgana.

Before the conversation could go any further, the doors opened and the Queen of Carmarthen swept into the room, a stony-faced woman, plainly dressed but for a heavy chain about her neck. Her son, the Omega, trailed behind, his eyes demurely on the floor. Arthur couldn’t help but briefly scrutinise him. He’d been expecting a delicate little thing, but the boy was solidly built for an Omega, with a broad forehead. He was perfectly good looking, but lovely? Perhaps Father was being polite, or perhaps it was that he was an unusual-looking Omega.

The queen gestured at the seat opposite Morgana, and the prince sat. 

“Anna,” said Father, rising to greet her. “A delight, as ever. And your son.” The prince murmured a polite greeting.

“Prince Owain,” said Anna.

“Owain,” said Father. “The Lady Morgana. Morgana, Owain.”

Morgana smiled at Anna. “It’s a pleasure,” she said, pointedly not looking at Owain.

“There are rules, you see,” Morgana had told him early. “I’m not allowed to talk to an Omega at a first meeting, and they’re not allowed to talk to me.” Arthur had asked why that was. “You see, if they talk to me, they’re being forward. If I talk to them, I’m being aggressive.”

“Your son is nineteen?” Father asked.

“Yes, last autumn,” said Queen Anna. “And in exceptional health,” she added as if her son was a horse. “And I understand you are a Knight of Camelot, Lady Morgana?”

“Since I came of age, yes,” said Morgana.

“I was a knight, in my youth,” said Anna. 

The food was served and the conversation stayed normal for a meal with a visiting royal family, only occasionally drifting back to the various assets of Morgana and Owain.

Arthur didn’t speak to Owain until they were halfway through the meat course, but not by design. There was, as far as he knew, no rule that said he couldn’t talk to noble Omegas at a first meeting. Had he thought about it, he would have supposed that it was highly discouraged, but as it was, he did not think much of addressing Owain, when it seemed natural to do so.

“Owain is very accomplished,” Queen Anna was saying. “He’s an excellent musician.”

“What do you play?” Arthur said to Owain.

The reaction was immediate and intense. Owain dropped his eyes to the table, the back of his neck pinkening as he blushed. Queen Anna fixed Arthur with a stare so hard that it shocked him into silence. The whole table was quiet with confusion, until Father said, “I do apologise, Anna. Arthur meant nothing by it, I’m sure.”

“I’d ask that you do not address my son,” said Queen Anna to Arthur. “I don’t know how you do things in Camelot, but in Carmarthen Alphas do not –”

“Arthur’s not an Alpha,” said Father. “He’s a Beta. He meant nothing by it.”

The confusion only deepened. Morgana buried her face in her wine cup. Owain gave Arthur a desperately quizzical look – probably not sure whether to apologise or continue to act as if Arthur was an Alpha until instructed otherwise. Queen Anna was scrutinising Arthur. He saw her sniff. “I’m sorry,” she said at length. “I merely assumed –”

“It’s a common enough assumption,” said Arthur.

Queen Anna looked at Arthur, who was trying desperately to look casual and easy – as if he were not offended – and at Morgana, who was setting down her wine cup and meeting Anna’s stare with a cold one of her own. “Then which of you is heir to the throne?”

“I am,” said Arthur, at the same moment that Morgana said, “He is.” Queen Anna gave each of them one further scrutinising look, her face briefly scathing at a situation that must have seemed to her at best topsy-turvy, at worst downright obscene. It wasn’t at all fair – true, Morgana was older and an Alpha, but she was Father’s ward, not his daughter. She wasn’t a Pendragon. It wasn’t as if it was just that she was a woman. But Carmarthen, Arthur knew, was very traditional, and it took a long while for news from Camelot to trickle so far west.

Queen Anna went back to talking about Owain’s musical accomplishments. “I supposed it didn’t occur to you to wonder why Uther is marrying me off instead of Arthur,” said Morgana, cutting in.

“I assumed he has his reasons,” said Queen Anna tartly.

“Well, clearly he does,” said Arthur. He toyed with his wine cup, still trying to act casual.

“The lute, you say?” said Father. “How interesting, I wonder if –”

“Though if you’ll forgive me,” said Queen Anna, her tone forceful rather than penitent. “I would like to ask how a Beta came to be born into your royal line.”

“It’s of little consequence,” said Father. “Morgana is my ward, not my daughter. She is of the House of Gorlois. Her ancestors are Alphas and Omegas going back at least four generations –”

“I inherited it from my maternal grandmother,” Arthur interrupted. He didn’t see any reason why he should be embarrassed, even if he was.

“I see,” said Queen Anna.

Father gave him a look that said clearly and succinctly _if you have ruined this marriage alliance there will be hell to pay_. “The scholars at court assure me it was a mere fluke. On his paternal line Alpha descends from Alphas and Omegas going back at least five generations.”

“Yes, _thank you_ , father,” said Arthur. He considered leaving the table. He felt stripped bare and humiliated, the shame he thought he’d long since lost bubbling back to the surface. But it was too important an occasion. He would have to suffer through the rest of the meal. Merlin leaned forward and refilled his wine cup, one hand brushing his shoulder as if to reassure.

“Yes, the lute,” said Queen Anna as if nothing had happened. “He’s been learning since he was a boy, and he plays very nicely. Perhaps he can play for you before we depart, my lady.” Father relaxed, evidently satisfied that no harm had been done. Arthur hoped for Morgana’s sake that harm had been done.

He excused himself at the earliest possible opportunity. Father did not seem to mind, perhaps wanting him gone so Morgana and Owain could have what passed for time ‘alone’. Perhaps he thought that was why Arthur was leaving. The thought of his father thinking he was trying to facilitate the damn alliance made Arthur feel even worse. He sat in his room and glowered at the fireplace as if it were responsible for all his ills. It was getting to be a full-on brood when Merlin barged into the room.

“I want you to know,” he said as the door swung closed behind him, “I was this close to _accidentally_ spilling wine on her dress.”

Arthur tried not to grin. “You’re a terrible servant. But thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Merlin walked around Arthur’s chair and poked the fire till it crackled, the back of his neck warm and pink in the soft light. He set down the poker and swivelled around to face Arthur, still crouching on the floor. “But no matter what he says, I am _not_ pouring wine on your father on your account.”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you,” said Arthur. Merlin slouched forward onto his knees and shuffled towards him. “What are you doing?”

“You’re in a bad mood,” said Merlin, “so I’m cheering you up.”

“What makes you think I’m in a bad mood?” said Arthur. Merlin’s hands stroked his knees. The fire popped.

“Well, I came into the room and you were glaring at the fire. That’s a pretty sure sign of moodiness.” Merlin shuffled between Arthur’s legs and quite suddenly his hands were on the laces of Arthur’s breeches.

Arthur flinched at the suddenness, then settled into the touch. “Not shagged out any more, then?”

“Probably out till next month,” said Merlin, working the laces loose. “But I’m willing to make an exception for cheer-up purposes. Also I did promise blow-jobs forever, but you made me wash your sheets so I don’t think it counted.”

Whatever retort Arthur had been going to utter was stifled when Merlin’s hand slipped inside his breeches and squeezed. “Maybe I shall just make this one of your duties,” he managed.

“Oh, don’t do that,” said Merlin. “You’ll take all the fun out of it.” Then before Arthur could reply, he ducked forward and took Arthur’s cock into his mouth.

He was so quick and casual about it. Arthur watched him for two breathless moments, watched him suck hard, draw back and loop his tongue around the head, before the sensation caught up with him. Merlin sucked again, forcing a clipped breath out of Arthur’s lungs. His head span. He didn’t think Merlin was planning to take his time over this.

His hips jerked and his cock slid deeper into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin made a happy noise. “You enjoy this too much,” Arthur choked out.

Merlin’s mouth slid off him with a wet sound and Arthur clutched at the arms of his chair. “You have a really nice cock, alright,” said Merlin, mouthing at it. He made the noise again.

“Oh, damn you,” said Arthur. He curled a hand around the back of Merlin’s neck, fingers brushing at his hair, and urged him forward. Merlin went without argument, letting Arthur push his cock back into his mouth, letting Arthur thrust up into him.

He lost his grip on Merlin’s neck, hands shaking. Merlin drew back, and he was doing the most wonderful things with his tongue, pulling down Arthur’s foreskin and lapping at the tender skin underneath, at the slit, and oh, oh _fuck_. Arthur’s mind dissolved into a pleasant rosy glow. For a few wonderful seconds, everything was Merlin’s mouth – but then he came back to himself and realised that he had come all over Merlin’s face.

“Oh, God,” he said at the sight of Merlin blinking come out of his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay,” said Merlin. “Not my first time.” He tugged off his neckscarf and wiped the worst of Arthur’s come off his face.

“Oh, God.”

“What?” said Merlin. “Look, in case you hadn’t noticed I’m the slutty kind of Omega.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” Merlin clambered up onto the chair and did his best to sit in Arthur’s lap. “See, Omegas come in two types, slutty and _absurdly_ virginal. I actually like sex so I’m the slutty kind. It’s only logical.” He kissed Arthur. His mouth tasted like cock, but Arthur couldn’t find the energy to care. He kissed back, running his hands up and down Merlin’s back.

“Mmm. Is that something from Gaius’s books?”

“Oh, probably,” said Merlin. “You wouldn’t believe some of the nonsense in there.” He kissed Arthur again, his tongue dipping into Arthur’s mouth – and the thing was, Arthur had heard that before, though not put quite so crudely. There were Omegas who were good for marrying, like those at court, like Owain, and there were Omegas who were good for fucking. And then there was Merlin, who was fantastically good at fucking – but who also really wouldn’t make that bad a consort, though Arthur would never dare admit it.

“Well, you’re obviously having more fun,” he said. He felt Merlin’s grin against his mouth. Merlin kissed him deeper, pushing, and he was hard in his breeches, of course he was. “Want me to handle that?” said Arthur as Merlin’s cock pressed against his thigh.

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Merlin murmured into his neck. 

He tumbled Merlin into bed, laughing – and _Lord_ , as enjoyable as his heat had been, Merlin with all his mental capabilities, Merlin who wasn’t constantly desperate for stimulation, _normal_ Merlin was much more fun. Sex made him loose-lipped and loose-limbed, lounging in Arthur’s bed like he owned it.

“So say Morgana does marry that Omega,” he said, toying with Arthur’s hair. “That means you can do anything you like, doesn’t it?” Arthur peered up at him. “Well, within reason. Since you’d not be the one who has to make babies all the time.”

“I didn’t think of it like that.” Arthur crawled up the bed and settled himself on the pillow beside Merlin. “I suppose so. Within reason. But what if _I_ want children?”

“You’d be the fun uncle, though,” said Merlin. “That’s way better. Oh! Or you could adopt a tribe of orphans.”

“I don’t think so,” said Arthur.

“But think of the orphans,” Merlin deadpanned. “The orphans, Arthur.” Arthur laughed and cuffed Merlin gently about the head, pulling him in for another kiss.

*

Arthur was woken, what felt like, frightfully early the next morning by an excessively loud knocking on the door. He made a point of taking his time to answer, dragging on his breeches and nightshirt, tugging the curtains closed, tramping across the floor, all at his laziest pace. But alas, he had to open the door eventually. Outside stood Morgana. “Are you only just up?” She sailed into the room, looking blissfully comfortable in breeches and a loose-fitting shirt.

“Good morning, Arthur,” he said, a hand still on the door. “Did you sleep well? Yes, thank you, Morgana, I did. And good morning to you, too!”

Morgana scowled. “Drop it. I need to ask a favour.” She sounded very sincere and serious. Arthur let the door fall closed.

“What is it?”

“I need you to speak to Owain for me.”

“Yes, because that went _so_ well last night,” said Arthur.

“Queen Anna was just surprised,” said Morgana. “She knows you’re a Beta now, so she can’t object. There’s no reason you can’t speak with him.”

“The Omegas at court never speak to me,” said Arthur.

“That’s because you’re the Crown Prince, not because you’re a Beta,” said Morgana. “Look, Uther had Geoffrey sit me down and tell me all about this when I came of age – and be glad you missed out on that, by the way. It’s perfectly acceptable for Alphas to use Betas as go-betweens. You can be alone with him. You’re not a threat.”

Arthur glanced at the bed, where Merlin was slumbering behind the curtains. “Oh, aren’t I now?”

“Not as far as court protocol is concerned,” said Morgana. “Listen, I want you to go to his rooms before Anna is up, take a message from me, and bring back his reply. It shan’t take long and Anna might not even have to know.”

“This sounds like a recipe for disaster,” said Arthur. “No, wait – I know what this is.” He pointed at her accusingly. “You’re trying to get me to ruin this marriage alliance for you.”

“I am not!” Morgana snapped. “Alright, look – don’t you _ever_ tell Uther I said this, but I’m not completely averse to marrying Owain. He seems nice enough, but I want to know how he feels about it. I want you to ask him how he feels about marrying me. Tell him to be completely honest.”

Arthur sighed and rubbed a hand over his sleepy face. “Just promise me you’ll take full responsibility if Queen Anna throws a fit.”

“You have my word,” said Morgana sweetly. Arthur never knew whether or not to trust her when she used that tone. But neither did he quite dare argue with her.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll do it. I’ll go to him this morning. On your head, mind.”

“ _Thank_ you,” said Morgana. “Make sure to tell him I won’t be offended.” She stepped closer to him, making a move as if to speak – and wrinkled her nose. “Why do you smell like sex?”

Arthur sniffed at himself. He did, too. Curse Alphas and their sensitive noses. “Because I’ve been having sex. _Obviously_.”

“Oh?” said Morgana, one eyebrow raised.

“None of your business,” said Arthur before she could ask. “Now, if you’d just –” He marched to the door and held it open. 

Morgana folded her arms and glowered at him, making no move to leave. Arthur let the door fall closed. He was about to ask why his sex life meant so much to her, but as soon as the door thudded shut the bed sheets rustled and Merlin’s voice said quietly, “Is she gone?”

Morgana turned to look at the bed. She looked at Arthur. Then, before he could speak, she said, “No, she’s not.”

There was a resounding silence from behind the bed curtains. Arthur cleared his throat. “As I was saying, _none of your business_. Now will you _please_ leave?” He prayed with all his might that she wouldn’t notice that Merlin smelled of Omega. He wasn’t in heat, and he was all the way on the other side of the room. She might miss it.

Morgana held up her hands. “Fine, fine. I shall leave you to your _business_.” She smirked at him, and – blessedly – left the room.

Arthur waited till she was definitely, indisputably gone before peering around the bed curtains. “Well, that was mortifying,” said Merlin.

“You couldn’t keep your mouth shut, could you?” said Arthur. “Damn you.” He reached over and prodded Merlin in the side, where he was extra sensitive. “Well, now you can fetch me my breakfast. Morgana wants me to be her errand boy. Did you hear that part?”

“I heard something about Prince Owain,” said Merlin. “I was dozing. Alright – where did my clothes end up?”

“Mostly on the hearth rug,” said Arthur. “And be quick about breakfast. I’m hungry.”

*

Owain was staying in the east wing, in a room adjacent to his mother’s chambers. Queen Anna was up, but, fortunately, not in residence. The guard told him she was meeting with the King. “It’s of no consequence,” said Arthur. “It’s an audience with Prince Owain I want.” Then, hoping it would help, he added, “I bring a message from the Lady Morgana.

The guard let him in. The door closed softly behind him, and for a moment, he was alone in the pristine guest-chamber, but then Owain appeared, peering through the archway, laces dangling loose from his shirt-sleeves. When he saw Arthur, his eyes dropped at once to the floor. 

“There’s no need,” said Arthur. “Lady Morgana sent me. She bids me take you a message.” Owain’s eyes stayed on the floor. “You can look at me. I’m not an Alpha.” Owain gazed resolutely at his bare feet, a flush spreading across his neck. “Oh, would you just look at me?”

Owaine’s eyes met his, wide and startled. “I’m sorry, Prince Arthur, but I think my mother would rather I not talk to you.”

“It’s alright,” said Arthur. “I’m just a Beta.”

“You don’t act like one,” said Owain.

And that was true, Arthur supposed. He’d been raised to think of himself as an Alpha-in-waiting, not a Beta. “I can leave if you prefer,” he said. “But I did promise Morgana I’d deliver her message.”

Owain seemed to steel himself. “Alright. What does she say?”

“She’d like to know how you feel about marrying her,” said Arthur.

Owain blinked. “I’m not sure what you mean. Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“I think she meant she would like to know how you _personally_ feel about marrying her,” said Arthur. Owain still looked blank. “If it were up to you.”

“I should like to marry her,” said Owain quickly. “She’s a very fine Alpha.”

“She also asked me to tell you that she won’t be at all offended if you say you’d rather not marry her,” said Arthur.

Owain’s face fell, like a child caught out on a lie. “If it were up to me?” he said, tentative. He was quiet a moment. Then he went on. “If it were up to me – no, I would not marry her. I would not like to live so far away from my family, and – and –”

He bit his lip. Arthur wondered if he had someone, back in Carmarthen. “Very well,” he said. “I shall tell her. And on her behalf, I thank you for your honesty.” Owain watched him go with a baleful look upon his face. Arthur had the sense that there was more he wanted to say, but of course, Owain didn’t dare speak with him for longer than was strictly necessary.

Well, he thought to himself as he walked down the corridor. That was one secret relationship exposed and one marriage alliance destroyed, and all before lunch. He was having quite the productive day.

He went directly to Morgana’s chambers. “Well?” she said the moment he opened the door. “What did he say?”

“Thank you, Arthur, for doing such a noble favour for me,” Arthur said. “Oh, you’re quite welcome, Morgana, it was no trouble at all.”

“Will you stop that?” said Morgana. “What did he say?”

Arthur sighed. “You _are_ going to tell father that you put me up to this. But,” he went on, “Owain said no. He doesn’t want to marry you.”

Morgana nodded a low nod. “I thought as much. Thank you.”

And so ended his father’s hopes of a marriage alliance with Carmarthen. He could, Arthur supposed, have simply ordered Morgana to go through with it, but Morgana thought of that and made sure Queen Anna was there when she announced that she wasn’t interested. Anna was an old-fashioned, highly-strung Alpha, not the sort to forget an insult.

There was another blazing row, of course, but true to her word Morgana made sure Father did not blame Arthur, and all of them made sure Queen Anna didn’t hear of Owain’s involvement in the little fiasco. Even Father, Arthur thought, could appreciate that in a country as old-fashioned as Carmarthen, Owain might never recover from the disgrace if anyone found out what he’d said. It had been awfully brave of him to answer Morgana’s question honestly, Arthur realised.

Queen Anna and her son left Camelot with remarkable graciousness and the promise of no hard feelings and amicable relations in the future. No real damage had been done, and life went back to normal, more or less.


	3. Act III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Some pressing business had emerged - the business of what to do with the unclaimed Omega at court."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter that I felt warranted the archive warning. Somewhat darker from here on out.

After that, for a good two weeks, everything went swimmingly. Arthur and Morgana got on better than usual on account of her utmost gratitude for his help. Father agreed, following the blazing row, to put off making any further marriage alliances until after Morgana’s next birthday. A few days after Queen Anna left, some damnable sorcerer sent a many-limbed terror to attack Camelot, but they fended it off with no casualties – unless you counted Sir Bors’ broken wrist – so it was all quite a lark.

But of course, it couldn’t last. Morgana’s gratitude ran dry, Father began dropping names of eligible Omegas into their conversations again – because of course, he wasn’t trying to make marriage _alliances_ , so he was keeping his promise – and besides all the mundane problems, there was the ever-present threat of magic.

Magic constantly seemed to be prowling Camelot’s borders, waiting to strike. Almost every week there was a curse or an enchanted monster or _something_. The Black Knight cut down two of Arthur’s men – and Lord knew those deaths would weigh on his conscience till the end of time. There was a nasty attempt at necromancy in one of the southern villages; fortunately the perpetrators weren’t especially competent, but the slimy thing they summoned killed one squire and almost took off Sir Lamorak’s left leg before they managed to put it down. The aspiring necromancers were scarcely more than boys, not much older than the squire they’d killed, but Arthur could do nothing but order them taken back to Camelot for judgement.

There was a plague of frogs, which was funny till they started finding spectacular rainbow-coloured frogs that spat poison. Arthur’s own folly almost brought Camelot to her knees, and he never could bring himself to find out just how many people might have died because he couldn’t keep himself in check.

And through every cursed moment, Merlin was there, even when Arthur specifically told him not to be.

He knew – of course he knew – that Merlin wasn’t telling him everything. Merlin had opened his body to Arthur completely and utterly, but he still hid things. Arthur told himself that he was being paranoid, that a scrawny boy from a farm couldn’t possibly have anything to hide of any import. It was absurd. But it was true. He could see it in Merlin’s eyes, sometimes.

Like when they go to Merlin’s village and he gets so evasive when asked why he left. Like when it turns out his best friend is – was – a sorcerer, and Arthur knows that Merlin knew, even if he won’t admit it.

Like when he said, “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Merlin,” after another sorcerer was brought to justice for an attempt on the king’s life, and Merlin just looked at him and said,

“Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?” and his voice sounded jokey, but his eyes looked wounded.

Like when Merlin stumbled into his chambers while he was sweating out the Questing Beast’s poison, and he stood in the doorway and stared, and stared. He was soaked to the skin, as if he’d been out in the rain, and he had a haunted look in his eyes.

“Where’ve you been this past day?” said Arthur. “I sent for you. They said you and Gaius had gone away without a word.”

Merlin’s throat worked for a moment before he spoke. “My mother,” he said, “she – we got word that she was ill, so we went to Ealdor.”

“Is she well?” said Arthur.

“She’s fine now,” said Merlin. “She’ll be fine.” Arthur reached for his cup with his good hand and fumbled, and then Merlin was there, his hand on Arthur’s wrist. He lingered there, fingers cold against Arthur’s wrist. “Can I touch you?”

“Now, Merlin? Really?” said Arthur. “No. I’m terribly ill.”

“Please?” said Merlin. “I just – want to feel like I’m alive.”

“ _You_ want to feel like you’re alive?” said Arthur. “Damn it all, I almost died and you –” And Merlin was kissing him, with more ferocity than he usually mustered outside of a heat. He clung to Arthur and Arthur clung back with his good hand.

Merlin breathed rough against his neck, and Arthur thought he might cry, but he didn’t cry. He pulled back, looked Arthur in the eye, and said, “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” said Arthur.

“Just. Things,” was all he could get Merlin to say.

Life went on. Arthur recovered, but for a heavy scar on his shoulder that ached in cold weather. Merlin would trace his fingers over it sometimes when they were a-bed and get that odd look in his eyes.

Arthur burned with curiosity. He couldn’t help himself. He tried questioning Merlin when he was in heat, to see if he could get the words to spill out of his mouth. “Where is it you go off to?” he said, tracing his fingers up and down Merlin’s chest.

Merlin whined. “Don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” said Arthur. “You disappear sometimes. For whole days. Like that time after the Questing Beast, or –”

“Do you ha’ to bring that up now?” Merlin’s head fell back against the pillow, his eyes closed, and Arthur wasn’t going to get any more sense out of him than that. But he persisted anyway.

That sorcerer who attacked last month,” he said. “You disappeared for a day and a half and when you came back you said you were _collecting herbs_. The whole time.”

“It’s _very time-consuming_ ,” Merlin hissed. He spread his legs, and yelped as Arthur rolled him over instead, lifting him up and positioning him carefully, propped against the headboard.

He liked Merlin when he was like this, pliant and easily moulded just how Arthur wanted him. He liked Merlin when he writhed and squirmed and made Arthur do as _he_ wanted.

He opened Merlin’s legs with his knees and positioned his cock between his thighs, where Merlin was slick and ready for it. “You’re really not going to talk, are you?”

Merlin whined again, forehead against the wall. Arthur ran his hands up and down Merlin’s trembling back, soothing, then eased his cock in. “ _God_ , I love this,” he said into Merlin’s ear, and Merlin shuddered.

He fucked Merlin slow and easy till he was wordless and begging, then obliged him, dragging his cock in and out the way Merlin liked best. He came just as Arthur did, their bodies shaking apart together. Merlin was gasping in his arms. He loved this.

“I’ll get it out of you some day,” he said, and Merlin’s head fell back against Arthur’s shoulder in a silent nudge that seemed to say _I’d like to see you try._

Arthur woke the next morning with Merlin’s elbow jabbing at his ribs, but despite the pain and irritation. he felt blissfully happy at having Merlin snoring away in his bed. Floating between sleep and wakefulness, he decided he really couldn’t have been happier.

Naturally it all came crashing down around his ears.

He woke Merlin, made him dress himself in fresh clothes and fetch them both breakfast. They ate together, as they often did after Merlin’s heats, and he kissed Merlin good-bye before leaving for practice.

Normally Merlin would come with him, to prepare his armour and keep his waterskin on hand, but not after a heat. Arthur didn’t want to exhaust Merlin any more than he already had. He sent Merlin home, to help Gaius till evening. Home, where he would be safe and could get some rest.

By late morning, practice was drawing to a close. Arthur had called a halt so they could have a rest and a drink before the last bout of the morning. He glimpsed Leon not far off speaking with a grim-faced squire, but didn’t pay him much mind. But then just as he was about to call to the knights to ready themselves, Leon jogged over and said, “sire,” in the voice he reserved for the grimmest of news.

Arthur felt the first trickle of ice in his veins. “What’s wrong?”

“I have some unfortunate news,” he said, “concerning your manservant.” Before he went on, he said, “I am sorry, sire.”

Practice was halted so that Arthur and the more distinguished knights could go to the throne room to deal with the more pressing business that had suddenly emerged. The business of what to do with the unclaimed Omega at court.

It was in the back of Arthur’s mind, as he left the practice field, as a squire stripped off his armour, as he made his way to the throne room, that surely this wouldn’t be a real problem. Surely he could speak to his father and straighten it out. It was a mere misunderstanding. But in the throne room there was anticipation in the air, and he couldn’t get close enough to his father to explain. He found himself pressed into one corner with the other important Betas while the Alphas of the court crowded around the throne. By the time he had worked his way almost to his proper place, the doors opened and a hush fell.

Merlin had had the sense not to struggle, Arthur noticed with relief. His hands were unbound. He let the two guards – Betas, carefully picked – lead him into the hall, and when the assembled Alphas stared at him, he dropped his eyes meekly to the floor. He was behaving like an Omega. But it was an act. A survival tactic. Arthur could see the desire to fight etched into every line of him.

And he saw the desire in the eyes of the Alphas, their gazes caressing Merlin as he was led past like long fingers. Arthur wanted to throw up.

Before the King, the guards pressed down on Merlin’s shoulders, forcing him to his knees. He went, eyes still on the floor.

“An Omega,” said the King. “And a peasant. How was I not aware of this?” One of the guards passed him Merlin’s bag of herbs. Arthur saw his father hold it by one string and sniff it, his face a picture of distaste. He edged closer. “Does anyone have a claim on him?” Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but the question was a mere formality. The King went on. “Very well. He is property of the crown.” Arthur saw Merlin’s whole body tense.

At last he was there, beside the throne, within easy speaking distance of the King. “Father,” he said, teeth gritted. “A word?”

“Not now, Arthur,” said Father softly. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“Of course it _concerns_ me,” said Arthur. “Sire, a word?”

The King relented. He held up an apologetic hand and stepped away from the crowd as if affording Arthur an indulgence.

“Father, this is madness,” said Arthur. “Release him at once.

“I’ll do nothing of the sort,” said Father. “He’s an unclaimed Omega. It would be chaos.”

Of course it would. That was what everyone said, wasn’t it? “He is _my_ manservant,” said Arthur. “He works for me. You can’t just –”

“Not any more,” Father interrupted. “I’m removing him from your service. He’ll be dealt with according to custom.” He turned away, leaving Arthur gaping, the ice spreading to fill every crevice of his body. 

He stumbled after his father and found that Merlin’s head was raised. His eyes met Arthur’s, a silent question, a plea. He nodded his head slightly as if to say _yes? You fixed it?_

Arthur shook his head. _I’m sorry_ , he mouthed, and he saw the last hope in Merlin’s eyes dim before his head bowed.

“Does any Alpha of the court wish to claim this Omega?” said the King.

Arthur saw Merlin’s head rise slightly – and oh, oh but in that moment, he wished more than anything that he was an Alpha. He wished that fixing this was as easy as stepping forward and claiming Merlin as his own. No one would dare challenge him.

Across the room, a hand went up, and another, and another. Three hands. Too many to be dealt with simply. Arthur knew what came next and he was sick to the stomach. “To auction, then,” said the King. “Tomorrow morning. We will reconvene then.”

The guards’ hands fell upon Merlin, dragging him to his feet. He did not struggle as they pulled him out of the hall, but neither did he co-operate. He was dead weight in their arms. His eyes were on Arthur. Arthur could feel it, but he didn’t dare meet Merlin’s gaze.

He tried to catch his father before he left the room. “Father, you can’t do this,” he said. “Father –” His father paid him no mind – and why should he? Arthur was just a Beta. According to the custom of the court he could have no part in what was to follow.

It wasn’t until Arthur reached his chambers that the full horror of what was to take place sank it. It struck him like a physical blow, almost knocking him to his knees. He staggered and sank into his chair.

Merlin was to be auctioned. In less than a day’s time, he would be sold like an animal to whichever Alpha at court was willing to spend the most money on a low-born Omega. Were he noble-born they would be speaking of marriage and dowries, but Merlin was a mere peasant.

In less than a day, Merlin would become property of some Alpha – and though he had not struggled when taken before the court, Arthur was sure that he would not go quietly to bed with his new Alpha. He thought of what might happen to an Omega who fought back.

He could picture if acutely; seeing Merlin around the castle in fancy clothes bought by his Alpha, with bruises printed stark on his pale skin. He imagined seeing the bruises fading over time, gradually, gradually not being renewed as Merlin was broken in. He saw Merlin dropping his eyes to the floor when Arthur passed him, and he saw himself glad of it, for he knew he would not be able to look Merlin in the eye. He saw himself, powerless to help Merlin.

It wasn’t that Merlin was his. Though there was a hot streak of possessiveness in him that he couldn’t deny, it was not the thought of losing Merlin to another that horrified him. It was that he couldn’t stand the thought of seeing Merlin in pain. Merlin, who he –

Merlin, who he was hopelessly, utterly in love with. It was a realisation that shook Arthur down to his very bones and made him only sicker. He was gloriously, sickeningly, head-over-heels in love with Merlin, with his useless, blasted manservant who dressed in clothes a size too big and had ears too large for his head, who never had learned how to properly turn down a bed or sweep out the corners of the room –

He was in love with Merlin and he was only realising it now, with Merlin lost to him, maybe forever. Arthur slumped forward, forehead striking the polished tabletop, and yelled out his frustration into the wood. He punched the table so hard, shooting pains ran up and down his arm, and then punched again, and again.

Someone knocked on the door. Arthur jolted upright, wiping an arm across his eyes. He wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting there, powerless and grieving.

“Arthur?” Morgana’s voice. When he didn’t answer, she called, “are you alright?”

“No,” said Arthur. “Go away.”

She opened the door. “I spoke to Uther,” she said, standing in the doorway. She was still in her training clothes, her hair bound up behind her head. “Well, I shouted at Uther. He’s forbidden me from bidding tomorrow.” Arthur stared at her. “Not that I would have – I wouldn’t have.”

“I know,” said Arthur.

“I’d have been bidding for you,” said Morgana.

“I know,” said Arthur. She hovered in the doorway a moment longer, then walked into the room. Her arms coiled around Arthur’s neck, hugging him the way she hadn’t since he was shorter than her and sitting on the ground with skinned and bleeding knees. He didn’t protest. He let her hold him in silence for a while.

“You knew?” she said eventually.

“No,” said Arthur, voice thick. “I’ve been bedding him for months and I hadn’t _noticed_.”

“I was just asking.”

“Of course I knew,” said Arthur.

Morgana released him and slid into the chair beside him. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t see that there’s anything I _can_ do,” said Arthur. “I’m just a Beta, remember?”

“You’re not _just_ anything,” said Morgana. “And Beta or no, the Arthur I know wouldn’t just sit around and let something like this happen.”

“My hands,” said Arthur, “are tied.” For there was nothing any Alpha could do but bid for Merlin; anything else would be very illegal. And there was nothing any Beta could do at all.

*

Merlin wasn’t being held in the dungeons proper, but in a separate, specially built and rarely used cell. The last time there had been an auction, Arthur had been just a boy. But the wood of the bars had been kept smooth and polished. There was space within for a bed and a bucket. The door was latched from the outside, without a lock. Merlin could probably kick his way out if he wanted to.

But evidently he didn’t want to – or, rather, he didn’t dare. He was sitting quietly on the bed, but he rose at the sight of Arthur approaching. “Arthur!” he exclaimed. Then, more softly, “sire.” He gave Arthur that look again, that pleading look. _Are you here to let me out?_

Arthur shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. He stood before the cell, gripping the bars. Merlin was so close, so close Arthur could have reached out and touched him. “I tried, I did – but my father – the King was very firm.” He had gone to his father again, to beg one last time, but his mind was resolutely made up. _Stop this at once, Arthur_ , he had said. _An auction will be very good for morale at court._

“Morgana?” said Merlin.

“Forbidden to bid.” Merlin’s eyes fell closed in a gesture of such despair that Arthur just had to try to lighten the mood. “How do you even get into these messes?”

Merlin’s eyes opened. “I was stupid, and lazy,” he said. He was trying to hard to keep his voice calm and level, but it kept hitching. Arthur had never seen Merlin so frightened. “I was at home – I took my herbs off with my clothes to wash, and when I was clean I didn’t put them back on, because – I don’t know, I was alone. It was so stupid. Gaius was supposed to be back in a few minutes. I didn’t think anyone would come in before he got back.”

“Who was it?” said Arthur.

“Sir Lionel,” said Merlin. “He realised what I was, and he – he pushed me against the workbench, and he held me down – I thought he was going to – but he didn’t.”

Arthur breathed deep to stop his blood from boiling. He’d never much liked Sir Lionel, but he’d thought him better than this. He resolved to find an excuse to beat Sir Lionel to a pulp at the next possible opportunity. Perhaps damn the consequences and use his fists till Lionel begged for mercy the way Merlin might have.

“It’s alright,” said Merlin suddenly. “It’s alright. I can handle myself. I mean, I knew this would happen some day – or I thought it would – and I can take it. I can.” There was a note of panic in his voice. Arthur’s grip on the smooth wooden bars tightened. “You know what the worst part is?” Merlin’s voice shook harder. “Worst part is, I’m going to want it. They’re going to make me want it. Because they’re an Alpha and I’m an Omega, and –”

He was so close to breaking. “Don’t,” said Arthur. “Don’t say that. It’s not going to happen, alright? I’m not going to let that happen to you.” He slipped his hand through the bars and touched Merlin’s face. Merlin’s eyes fell closed against at the contact. “I’m going to find a way to get you out of this, I promise.” Merlin didn’t answer. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“Of course,” said Merlin. “Course I trust you.”

And he meant it. He did mean it. But he couldn’t see anything Arthur could do, short of freeing him by force – and that would cause no end of trouble, and Arthur had already proved himself unwilling to do it. There was nothing else Arthur could do, for he was a Beta, not an Alpha, and –

The notion came to Arthur as clearly as if a bell had sounded in his head. He was a Beta, not an Alpha.

“What is it?” said Merlin.

“I have to go,” said Arthur. “I have to see – I’ll be back before morning, I promise.” He took Merlin’s hand between the bars and kissed it. “I’ll be back.” He released Merlin’s hand and with one last gentle touch to his face, he turned and left him in his delicate little cage, a plan forming.

Arthur had rarely set foot in Camelot’s archives by choice. His father had ordered him down there a few times to learn up on court protocol and etiquette, and to slog through a few volumes of history so that he might learn by example. Then there had been the blissful winter when he and some of the other squires had discovered what they called _dirty books_ and what Geoffrey called _valuable historical texts of a sexual nature_. They’d been caught, the books had been locked away, and Arthur hadn’t been to the archives since.

“Prince Arthur!” Geoffrey exclaimed when Arthur burst into the room. “I haven’t seen you here in a while. To what do I owe this –”

“I’m well, Geoffrey, and I hope you are too,” said Arthur. “And your grandchildren are well? Yes? Good. Then we can skip the pleasantries.” He rested his hands on the table. “Where do you keep legal texts?”

“Legal texts?”

“Specifically those concerning the auction of Omegas.”

In all the books on protocol his father had made Arthur read, there had been surprisingly little on interactions between Alphas, Betas and Omegas. Other than the marriage laws and traditions, there had been a number of laws concerning ridiculously unlikely situations such as what to do when a male Omega turned out to be a female Beta disguising herself with bandages and carefully positioned wooden appendages, but he had never known his father to consult them. As far as Alphas were concerned, it was all just common sense. But somewhere there must be written laws concerning auctions, though Geoffrey looked blank. “Such a text does exist, does it not?”

“I believe so, sire,” said Geoffrey. “Though I don’t recall it ever having been consulted.”

“Can you find it?”

“It, ah, would be in the old archive,” said Geoffrey. “There are some legal texts in there – archaic laws and suchlike. You know, laws governing use of –”

Arthur didn’t care what Geoffrey had been going to say before he’d cut himself off, though he rather thought it might be _magic_. “Can you find it?”

“It may take some time,” said Geoffrey. “I’ve been meaning to catalogue that archive since – oh, years, sire.”

“But you can find it?”

Geoffrey toyed with his quill. “Yes, sire.”

“Before morning?”

“I believe so, sire. Though really, one cannot rush these things. Many of the documents in the old archive are very fragile.”

“Just,” Arthur gritted out, “ _find it_.”

Because with all those absurdly detailed laws concerning bizarre situations – if a female Alpha were to have two Omegas and become with child, that had been another – it did not seem at all unlikely that there might be a law for his precise situation. He knew that it was legal for a noble Beta to take a noble Omega under their protection, provided the two were related my blood. He’d never seen a law concerning mating between Betas and Omegas, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist.

Not that he thought it likely. There was no law he knew of that said a Beta _couldn’t_ mate with an Omega, either. It was a curious void in the marriage laws. There were laws concerning almost every other kind of partnership. Alphas and Betas could marry, provided they be of opposite sexes and no suitable Omega could be found for the Alpha. An Omega could not marry an Omega, but what if an Omega became with child by another Omega? Arthur remembered being startled that such things were possible. Alphas and Alphas could not marry, but sex between them was discouraged rather than illegal and took place behind closed doors.

But what of Betas and Omegas? As far as Camelot’s laws were concerned, such a relationship simply did not – could not – exist, and so what was the point of making it illegal? An Omega might lie with an Omega, as it was legal for an Alpha to take two mates at once (though no more) and all three might well share a bed. But otherwise the law treated Omegas as incapable of attraction to anyone who was not an Alpha, and Betas as incapable of desire intense enough to need regulation.

Maybe there was a law, in the old archives. Trouble was, Geoffrey was damnably _slow_. “Now here’s an interesting text,” he said two hours into his extended search. 

Arthur drummed his fingers on the table. He wasn’t even allowed to touch the books, lest he damage them. “Is it about auctions?”

“No, no,” said Geoffrey. “Though I’m sure I shall find that soon – it concerns what to do if a dragon roosts on farmland.” Arthur blinked. “For there might be eggs, you see –”

“I don’t care about dragon’s eggs,” said Arthur slowly. “Put. It. Aside.” Geoffrey, with greatest reluctance, put the document aside and moved to the next.

He hadn’t been exaggerating the state of the old archive. If anything, he had understated the problem. It was a chaos of books and papers, heaped on the shelves and on the floors, dust and cobwebs in the corners. Many of the documents were so faded that it took Geoffrey some time to decipher them and pronounce them irrelevant.

“Laws concerning the governance of Camelot’s sea port,” he said as he set aside a book. “We no longer have a sea port, sire – we lost it to Mercia some years ago –”

“I know. Move on.”

“Property laws from the reign of Queen Berenice,” said Geoffrey. “Long superseded – though they still have historical value. I have been looking for these – you see, I’m composing a history of Camelot –”

“Yes, I’m sure it’s fascinating, I look forward to reading it,” said Arthur.

They turned up a copy of Camelot’s earliest marriage law, which Geoffrey practically cooed over. A rather horrendous law saying that adulterous Omegas were to be flogged to death; a relic of a less humane time, Geoffrey said. A law preventing Betas from being knighted, fortunately overturned by Arthur’s great-grandfather and now another mere relic. Countless other dry documents – literally dry, the parchment crumbling away beneath Geoffrey’s fingers.

Arthur didn’t realise he had fallen asleep at the table until he was woken by a _slam_ of leather and parchment near his head. “I think this may interest you, sire,” said Geoffrey. He didn’t seem to notice that Arthur was still blinking himself awake. Probably he hadn’t noticed Arthur had fallen asleep. Dawn light was slipping through the window.

“These are laws composed by one King Maximinus II – a distant uncle of yours, I believe, sire. They concern all kinds of property auctions – most of them have been long since superseded, you see, which is why they were stored here, but I believe Maximinus also composed the only law to date regulating the auction of Omegas.” He began to flick through the loose pages of the book with torturous slowness. “Probably it ought not to have been stored here, being the only law of its kind, but they came as a set and I suppose my predecessors didn’t wish to separate them. Besides, the text is so rarely consulted. Maximinus was very unusual in his concern for regulating treatment of peasants – why, in my history of Camelot –”

“Is it there?” said Arthur. “Tell me it’s there.”

“Here, sire,” said Geoffrey. He plucked out a sheet of parchment – an alarmingly sparse sheet, Arthur thought. From what he could see, most of it was ornamentation rather than legal writing. Geoffrey cast his eye over it. “I’m afraid it’s mostly a transcription of what is still the convention, sire. Unclaimed low-born Omegas become property of the reigning monarch, and if he or she does not wish to exercise his or her right of _ius prima noctis_ – are you familiar with the term, sire?”

“Yes,” said Arthur. “Get on with it.”

“ _ius prima noctis_ ,” said Geoffrey, “then they may auction the right to the highest bidding Alpha.”

“Does it mention Betas at all?” said Arthur. There had to be some mention of Betas. There had to be _something_ he could do.

Geoffrey looked at the document again. “I’m afraid not, sire,” he said. “It’s all quite straightforward – characteristic of Maximinus, you’ll find.” He cleared his throat and began to read. “ _If an Omega not born into any of the twelve houses of the court have not been claimed by any noble of Camelot or any other royal city then ze shall_ – note the gender-neutral pronoun, sire, commonplace in the reign of Maximinus – _shall become property of the reigning monarch so that ze may exercise zir right of ius_ –”

“Wait.” Arthur held up a hand. “Go back.”

“ _Shall become property of the reigning_ –”

“No, further back!” said Arthur. Geoffrey looked perplexed. “Any _noble_ of Camelot? Is that what it says?”

Geoffrey looked at the document. “Yes, sire,” he said. “It’s actually quite interesting – in the reign of Maximinus it was commonplace to use ‘noble’ as a synonym for ‘Alpha’, since noble Betas such as yourself were so rare –”

“But that’s all it says?” said Arthur. “Just ‘noble’?”

“It appears so, sire,” said Geoffrey.

“Does it anywhere in that text,” said Arthur, “say that the claim must be made by an Alpha?”

“Well, in this context ‘noble’ does of course mean Alpha,” said Geoffrey. “But in the modern parlance – no, I suppose it does not.”

Hope flooded through his body. Arthur stood so quickly as to shake the table. “Geoffrey, I think you have saved us both.” He took Geoffrey by the shoulders and squeezed him warmly. “I’ll see that you’re rewarded.” He dashed out of the archive, then back in moments later. “I’ll need that document.”

“Do be careful, sire –” Arthur heard as he hastened away, parchment firmly in hand.

The polished wooden cage was empty. They must have already taken Merlin away. He hadn’t realised he’d spent so long in the archives. He raced to the throne room. When the doors opened he registered vaguely that there was a great crowd of people – but all he saw was Merlin, forced to his knees, hands bound with soft cord – of course it was soft, they were making sure not to leave any marks on their precious Omega.

Arthur mustered every ounce of confidence he had and marched into the room. Heads turned. “I call a halt,” he said. “I call a halt to this.”

His father looked at him with something close to fury in his gaze. “Arthur, what is the meaning of this?”

“I’m calling a halt,” said Arthur. “I’m not letting you do this.”

“Arthur, we’ve already talked about this,” said Father in a low voice. “The boy is no longer in your service –”

“I still have a claim on him,” said Arthur. He kept talking before his father could answer. “He’s mine, and the law doesn’t say I can’t claim him.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Merlin move, but he didn’t dare look. He didn’t dare look at Merlin. He had to stay focused. “You can read it for yourself if you don’t believe me.” The King snatched the parchment out of Arthur’s hand and glared at it as if he could will it away. “It’s quite clear. I’m a noble of the court, and I’ve already claimed him.”

He had hoped dearly that he wouldn’t have to spell out what he was saying, but his father said, “when you say _claimed_ ,” slowly, “I assume you don’t mean only that he’s your servant?”

“No,” said Arthur. His father gestured for him to go on. He was going to make Arthur come out and say it – no, he thought Arthur _wouldn’t_ say it before the whole court. Well, he was wrong. “I have bedded him.”

His words sent a murmur around the court. For the first time, Arthur was certain that this was actually going to work. Merlin was going to be safe. Merlin was going to be his. He wished it hadn’t had to be like this.

“Is this true?” said Father, but he wasn’t addressing Arthur. He was addressing Merlin, still hunched on the floor.

“Yes?” said Merlin, voice small. “Y-yes,” he said again, with more force, but still not enough to sell it. Arthur silently cursed Merlin, for it was true. It wasn’t as if he had to lie.

Another voice rang out. “I’ll vouch for them.” It was Morgana, arms folded across her fancy court-clothes. She had stepped forth. Her gaze burned. “Arthur told me months ago.”

_Arthur told me_ was an interesting interpretation of how that went down, but Arthur could argue that point later. “Yes, I did,” he said.

“I was there,” Merlin chipped in helpfully, voice still trembling.

For an awful moment, Arthur thought his father might still refuse – but when he gestured to the guards. They tugged Merlin to his feet. “Release him,” said Father, and at long last Arthur could _breathe_.

Merlin was shoved at him, strangely limp, and one of his hand’s was forced into Arthur’s. His skin felt hot in Arthur’s grip. “I recognise your claim,” said the King. “You’re both dismissed.” He glowered at them as if to say _get out of my sight, now_ and Arthur obliged.

Merlin was unsteady on his feet all the way out of the throne room, and as soon as they were outside, in the corridor, he all but collapsed. He sagged into Arthur as if his bones had all been replaced with suet. Arthur thought it was relief. He wrapped an arm around Merlin’s waist to support him. Then he looked properly and saw just how dark Merlin’s eyes were, just how pale his skin, and realised something wasn’t right.

“Arthur,” Merlin gritted out, “your chambers. _Now_.”

Arthur could hear the people in the throne room disassembling, moving towards the doors. He didn’t waste time asking what was wrong until they were safely in his chambers. “Merlin,” he said once the doors were closed behind them. “Merlin, what is it?” Merlin was clinging to him, making the kind of noises Arthur had only ever heard him make when in heat.

“I don’t know,” he said, his voice hot against Arthur’s neck. “I – before they took me to the throne room, they had this bottle – this potion – and they made me drink from it. They said it was – custom. They made me drink, and I –”

And then Arthur remembered. It was in the document he’d read not an hour ago, in a sense. Omegas should be auctioned when in heat. Of course they hadn’t want to wait. Of course someone had come up with a work-around over the centuries.”

“Feels like bein’ in heat,” said Merlin, “but different, and worse, and it _hurts_.” He took a gulping breath. “Arthur, it _hurts_.”

“I know,” said Arthur, trying to sound soothing. “I’ll fix this. I can fix this.”

“I need it –”

“I know.” Arthur scrabbled at Merlin’s clothes, trying to get to some skin, and when he found it Merlin hissed, desperate. He clung to Arthur, let himself be lifted off the ground. His boots fell to the floor.

Arthur carried him across the room and threw him down on the bed, as if Merlin were his conquest rather than his lover. “I hate this,” Merlin was saying as Arthur undressed him. “Hate this – so much. Feels like I’ll die if you don’t –”

“You always say that.” Arthur kissed him, trying to quiet him, but it only made Merlin more frantic, clutching at Arthur’s head, clawing at his shoulders.

“Your clothes,” Merlin said, half into Arthur’s mouth. “Off. _Now_.”

He tried to pretend Merlin was in heat, but it wasn’t like when Merlin was in heat. He looked and sounded as if he were, but the smell wasn’t there – the thing that made his heat-symptoms attractive was missing. Merlin was pale and sweaty and begging, and it turned Arthur’s stomach. He looked ill. Arthur wanted this over with as soon as humanly possible. He ripped off his clothes – he heard cloth tearing as he fought his way out of his breeches – and ran his hands all down Merlin, parting his legs. He opened as easily as a doll. He was wet. Of course he was wet.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” said Arthur. “That’s what you want, isn’t it? Tell me that’s what you want.”

“Think I’m dyin’,” said Merlin in a tiny voice, and the worst thing was, he might have meant it this time.

Or maybe the worst thing was that once Arthur got hard enough to fuck it was _good_ , good as it ever was. Merlin opened up for him so easy, his body loosening at the feel of a cock inside him, but then as Arthur started to fuck, he bit and swore and thrashed, burning with desperation. It was going to be one of the times he couldn’t come before Arthur did.

It shouldn’t have taken long. It wasn’t difficult to make himself forget that Merlin was drugged. It wasn’t different to enjoy the hot, wet clutch of his body, the way he moved as Arthur fucked him – Arthur came, hips jerking, shoulders shaking, and it should have been over then. But Merlin didn’t come. Merlin let out a cry of frustration instead, clutching at Arthur, teeth gritted as he whined.

“What’s wrong?” said Arthur, his head still spinning. “What do you need?” He rested a hand on Merlin’s trembling belly, trying to still him, but that only seemed to make things worse.

“Don’t know,” Merlin said. “Don’t know – what I need.” He gasped for breath. “It hurts.”

Maybe he just needed to be fucked again. Maybe it was like a heat and Arthur had to fuck it out of Merlin’s system, but Merlin couldn’t come even when Arthur wrapped a hand around his cock and tried jerking him off. “S’not enough,” he was saying. “It’s not enough. I don’t. I don’t know.”

God, he was almost crying. Arthur kissed him, wiping his face, trying to calm him. “You have to tell me,” he said. “Tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Merlin breathed, and breathed, and said, “I think. I think I –”

“What do you need?”

“I think I need to be – tied.”

Arthur stilled, frozen with horror. Of course. That was just the kind of twisted thing they would come up with. Of course Merlin needed an Alpha to fix whatever horrible thing they’d done to his insides. “I can’t –”

“I know,” said Merlin. “I know.”

For a moment he was paralysed with indecision, lying atop Merlin as if trying to shelter him from the truth of the situation – but then an idea came to him. “Shh,” he said as he sat up. He wiped Merlin’s face again. “Shh. I’m going to try something.” He rested his hands on Merlin’s quivering thighs. “This might help.”

Merlin looked up at him, face blotchy and desperate. He nodded. “Alright. Trust you.”

Arthur slipped two fingers into Merlin, then three. They went in easy and Merlin hissed, “that’s not gonna –” Arthur shushed him again.

This wasn’t something he’d ever done before, or even really heard of outside of rumour and drunken boasting. He wasn’t even sure if it was possible – but if anyone could take it, an Omega in heat could. Knotting, as Arthur understood it, was all about girth. He pushed in his smallest finger, and Merlin shuddered. He rest his hand on Merlin’s stomach, stilling him.

“Oh, God,” said Merlin. “Oh, God.” He went lax. He must have realised, by then, what Arthur meant to do to him.

Arthur adjusted his stance, fingers curling against the soft skin of Merlin’s stomach, and began to work in his thumb. Merlin yelped when Arthur’s knuckles popped inside him. Arthur tried to say something reassuring, but Merlin’s body had gone taut around his hand, so tight he wasn’t sure he could move, let alone speak. He grunted and twisted his wrist, pushing his hand deeper, deep into Merlin’s insides.

And he got it right, the right angle, the right pressure. Merlin cried out and his hips jerked up, swallowing Arthur’s hand almost to the wrist. A plea fell from his lips. Arthur reached for Merlin’s cock with his free hand. One touch, his hand snug around the head, and Merlin was coming.

Something crackled around them like lightning. The room was shaking. It could only have lasted a second or two, but it felt like an age. The room jarred and jolted back and forth, furniture rocking, hangings flapping against the wall, armour rattling. Somewhere something shattered. There was a _crack_ of wood splintering. Merlin arched as he finished coming, and the room stilled.

Arthur withdrew his hand from Merlin’s still-twitching hole. Merlin was quaking all over, tears falling again, but he didn’t move to comfort. His mind was blank with shock. “Merlin, what –”

“M’sorry,” Merlin choked out, “m’sorry – I didn’t mean to –”

“Didn’t mean to _what_?”

“– used to happen sometimes when I was in heat, but I got it under control, but I guess the potion – it was different and I just – I lost control.” He was struggling to sit up, eyes open, and Arthur saw the last glimmerings of gold fading from his irises.

At last, dully, he understood what had happened. His blood turned to ice. He wanted to throw up. He wanted, very badly, to wash his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to scream and shout and demand an explanation. But he didn’t know what to say, for he didn’t know if he was panicked or angry or humiliated. When he opened his mouth to speak, he truly didn’t know what he was going to say. 

What he said was, “get out.”

“Arthur,” Merlin was saying, “Arthur, m’sorry –”

“Cover yourself up and _get. Out_ ,” Arthur gritted. He backed away, half-falling off the bed. He wanted some distance between himself and Merlin, but Merlin stumbled after him. 

“Can we talk,” he was saying. “Can we talk about this, _Arthur_ –”

Arthur retrieved Merlin’s clothes from where they’d fallen and threw them at Merlin in a bundle. “Get _out_ , damn you. I don’t want to talk to you. I don’t want to _look_ at you right now.”

He knew that he shouldn’t send Merlin away, because this wasn’t just any slight, this was – _treason_. This was a capital crime. But he couldn’t, because – he just couldn’t. He didn’t know what to do. All he could do was act on an impulse to have Merlin as far away from him as possible. He couldn’t think clearly until Merlin was gone.

Merlin blinked, so horribly gormless for someone who was clearly an insidious, cunning worm. Arthur shouted at him again, shocking him into movement, but he kept talking as he struggled into his clothes, no matter how aggressively Arthur ignored him. “I wanted to tell you – but not like this – I’m sorry – _please_ can we talk about this, Arthur, _please_ –”

Merlin was dressed, or dressed enough for dignity. Arthur took him by the arm and dragged him across the room to the door. “I don’t want to see you,” he said. “I don’t want to see you, do you hear?”

“Arthur,” Merlin said. “What are you going to do with me?”

Arthur shoved him at the door. He’d meant it to be an answer, but Merlin had worse things on his mind. “Arthur – your father – are you going to turn me in?” Merlin’s voice was still so broken, and something inside Arthur was bleeding.

“Turn you _in_?” he said. Of course not; no, he couldn’t. One way or the other, he was going to handle this himself. But he didn’t know how to put that into words. “I just took you under my protection before the _entire court_. Do you have any idea how humiliating –” He broke off, for Merlin’s face was still terrified, and he thought Arthur was going to have him killed. He honestly thought Arthur could kill him. Arthur felt his anger soften, and he suddenly understood the situation, or at least a sliver of it. But he couldn’t bring himself to be kind. “I _can’t_ tell him, you understand? Now get out of my sight.” He opened the door and shoved Merlin out into the corridor.

The door slammed. He didn’t linger to listen for Merlin’s footsteps. He buried his face in his hands – his filthy, filthy hands, dirty from touching a sorcerer – and tried not to yell.

It couldn’t be true. If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he would never have believed it. Merlin, his manservant, his awkward, puppyish manservant with ears too big for his head and legs too long for his body; Merlin who captured spiders and put them out the windows rather than killing them; Merlin, who couldn’t seem to turn down a bed properly or keep the corners of the room clean – _his_ Merlin, his ridiculous, beautiful Merlin, could not be a sorcerer. 

He couldn’t have bedded a sorcerer for so many months without knowing it. He couldn’t have. He was his father’s son, through and through, that was what he had always said. He would never touch a sorcerer, lie with a sorcerer – God, but he would be the laughing stock of the court.

He washed his hands at the basin, then washed them again, until his skin was tingling. It couldn’t be true. But then again – and this ate at him – he had spent months thinking Merlin was a Beta. The idea of _Merlin_ being an Omega had been laughable, but there it was. The idea of Merlin being a sorcerer wasn’t just laughable, it was – _unthinkable_.

Arthur’s mind was a blank haze of panic. He’d hoped that with Merlin gone he’d be able to make a decision, but still he was paralysed by indecision. It was barely lunchtime. He’d won Merlin and lost him again in the space of an hour.

He did nothing. He sent for lunch, which he picked at, unable to stomach even the thought of food. He sent for a squire to dress him and went to the practice field. The other knights seemed confused to see him. Based on the lewder of their comments they’d expected him to stay a-bed with Merlin all day – and he probably would have, if Merlin hadn’t, if he hadn’t – 

Arthur caught sight of Sir Lionel amidst the gaggle of knights. He was sniggering. Arthur beckoned him forward. “Sir Lionel,” he said, impressed at his own coolness. “Would you care to join me in a demonstration?”

“What kind of demonstration?” said Sir Lionel, his laughing fading from his lips. Arthur wondered if he had guessed just what trouble he was in. Strictly speaking Arthur could have him severely punished for what he had done, since Merlin had technically been his when Sir Lionel had – but the King probably wouldn’t stand for that, since Arthur had had the nerve to keep his sex life behind closed doors.

“Put your helmet on,” said Arthur. As Sir Lionel obliged, he went to his squire and selected a quarterstaff. He was tempted to use a mace, but he didn’t want to do any permanent damage. “I don’t believe you’ve ever been trained in the quarterstaff, Lionel.”

“No, sire,” said Lionel from within his helmet.

“You see, it’s a deceptive sort of weapon,” said Arthur, “because it may _look_ – like just a stick but it _can – really – hurt_.”

Sir Lionel crumpled to his knees with a groan. Oh, but that had been satisfying. Lionel wasn’t in full armour, and the exposed parts of him – his thighs, his neck – had yielded so nicely to Arthur’s blows. He’d be black and blue in the morning. “Did you all get that?” he said to the assembled knights.

“I’m not really sure what that was supposed to demonstrate, sire,” wheezed Sir Lionel.

“Oh, really?” said Arthur. “Was anyone else unclear?” He turned to his knights and spread his arms warmly. “Anyone?” There was a pause as glances and whispers were exchanged. At length, Sir Leon raised his hand. “Very well,” said Arthur. “On your feet, Lionel. We’re going again.”

*

Evening came. Arthur returned grimly to his chambers. The moment he was through the door, he couldn’t deny what had happened any longer. The jacket and boots he had worn that morning were strewn across the floor, together with Merlin’s belt and neckscarf. No one had tidied up or changed the sheets – of course they hadn’t, that was Merlin’s job.

He was sure he could see the shadow of Merlin’s body in the folds and rumples of his bed sheets, so he straightened them out with a harsh tug and tried to sleep. But his bed reeked of Merlin, of sweat and sex and desperation. It wove into his lungs, into his skin, and he could have sent for someone to change the sheets, but he couldn’t bear to. In the end, he bundled up all the stinking sheets and blankets, threw them to the floor, and slept on his mattress. It was uncomfortable, but it didn’t smell, and he was too exhausted to care.

He woke the next morning stiff and bleary and missing Merlin. Half asleep, the first thing he wondered wasn’t why he was lying on a bare mattress, but where Merlin was. Somehow over the last few months, Merlin had drifted into his bed more and more, until he was sleeping there almost every night. If Merlin wasn’t beside Arthur when he woke up, then surely he’d be along soon enough.

But Merlin wasn’t coming – and even if he was, Arthur would have to send him away. He didn’t want to look at Merlin’s face. His stupid, _beautiful_ face. His sorcerer’s face.

Arthur rolled over and punched the mattress. He pressed his face into the dull fabric and tried to breathe. After pushing it out of his mind for the better part of a day, he finally had to think about what had happened.

He had fallen hopelessly, senselessly in love with Merlin. Merlin, who had stabbed him in the back and quite possibly betrayed Camelot. Merlin, who by all rights should be on trial right now. A good prince of Camelot would turn him in, damn the humiliation. Lord alone knew what Merlin had been using his magic for.

He ought not let his feelings cloud the matter. He tried to rationalise it. He imagined Merlin as a worm in the heart of Camelot, behind or somehow involved in all those magical attacks. All those times Merlin had been in places he shouldn’t, ‘ _helping_ ’. All those times he’d vanished for days without explanation – plotting, scheming, meeting with other sorcerers. He imagined Merlin biding his time, waiting for the right moment to strike and throttle Arthur with his magic. Merlin earning his trust, working his way into Arthur’s bed to learn all his secrets. Hell, maybe Merlin had him under a love spell.

All the pieces fitted together, with some mental effort. He painted an ugly picture in his mind, told himself a story with Merlin a traitor, a villain, but the end of the story – Merlin on the scaffold, Merlin’s head rolling – made him sick to his stomach, and the whole thing crumbled apart.

He began again. What was real? That moment of exposure, the moment when Merlin had been naked and lost and out of control in Arthur’s bed – that had been real. Arthur’s feelings for Merlin, his feelings that were like a raw open wound in his chest – they were real. They had to be. Merlin’s endless, puppy-dog loyalty to Arthur, to Camelot – was that real, or just an act?

He wanted to believe that Merlin had lied to him only to save his own skin, that Merlin wasn’t a _liar_ , just a person who told lies when necessary, but – Merlin had hidden his Omega-status from the court for the better part of a year. He’d been lying, even if only by omission, that whole time, and Arthur had known it. But he’d known Merlin was hiding something from him. He’d just never guessed it might be this.

Someone knocked on the door. Arthur’s heart leapt in his chest. “Who’s there?”

“Breakfast, sire.” It was a woman’s voice. A maid. Arthur relaxed, unfolded himself from the bed, and found a shirt.

“Your manservant is indisposed, sire,” said the maidservant as she set down the breakfast tray.

“I know,” said Arthur.

Her gaze flicked to the rumpled mess of his bed sheets upon the floor. “Shall I take those to the laundry, sire?”

“No!” Arthur snapped. “Not now. Later.” He glowered at her till she left the room. Once he was alone, he took up a pillow from the floor and pressed it to his nose, smelling it, cradling it in his arms as if he were a child with a doll. He missed Merlin. He missed _his_ Merlin, his awkward Omega Merlin who was definitely not a sorcerer, who he trust with his life. His Merlin, who might as well be dead.

“What is _wrong_ with you?” said Morgana that day at practice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Arthur eased off his helmet and held out his hand, beckoning to a page to bring him some water.

“You’re beating your knights to a pulp,” said Morgana. “You broke Sir Lionel’s ribs yesterday, did you know that?” She’d managed to draw him aside to the edge of the field, but still she kept her voice low.

“Good.” Arthur took a swig of water.

“ _Good_? Is that all you’re going to say?”

Arthur glared at her. “Do you know what he almost did to Merlin?”

“I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it,” said Morgana. “I’m saying I’m worried about _you_.”

Arthur said, “I’m fine,” but she talked straight over him.

“And where is Merlin, anyway?”

“About,” said Arthur. “He needed a break.”

“A break?” said Morgana. “Because I saw him _about_ this morning. He was working for Gaius.”

“Good for him. No slacking off.”

“Make up your damn mind.” Arthur made a move towards the field and away from the dreadful awkwardness of their conversation, but she grabbed his arm. “Gwen says you sent him away. She says he’s a mess.”

Arthur snatched his arm out of her grip. “Well, _Gwen_ doesn’t know anything about it. And I’m sure Merlin will be just fine.”

“What did you _do_?”

Arthur was reminded by the hard set of her gaze that Morgana had a fiercely protective streak. This was the girl who’d once nursed a fox-cub in her chambers for three weeks, and then smuggled it out to the forest in the night when Father threatened to drown it. Of _course_ she was furious about what he’d done to Merlin – or what she thought he’d done. “I didn’t _do_ anything.” Arthur spread his arms. “He’s not up for auction anymore, is he? No? Then I think I’ve done a good job.” He turned away, but she caught him again.

“What happened? I know he means a lot to you.”

“You don’t know anything,” Arthur bit out. “You don’t know _anything_ about Merlin, and you don’t know how I feel about him. So stay out of my business.” He snatched his arm away and marched back to the field, leaving her behind.

*

In the end, it was Merlin who broke first. Of course he did. He always did, because he was soft and pathetic that way.

Arthur avoided going back to his rooms until the evening. He found, when at last he dragged himself there after dinner, that someone had been in and replaced his sheets with clean ones that didn’t smell of Merlin, and tidied away the clothes from the floor. What they’d done with Merlin’s things he couldn’t imagine.

No one had built a fire. He remembered, dimly, giving orders that that was to be exclusively Merlin’s job, because it was one of the only things he was truly good at. Merlin could build and light a fire better than any of Arthur’s knights and squires, even when Arthur could swear all the wood was too damp. Merlin used to shrug and say it was ‘just a gift’. It occurred to him that it was, probably, magic. He sat and scowled at the empty fireplace, as if he could will a fire into existence as surely as Merlin could.

What to do with Merlin? Do nothing – pretend he didn’t exist and leave him to work for Gaius? No, he couldn’t do that. It might not be safe. Exile him from the city? But how would he justify doing that, and could he bring himself to do it? If he let Merlin speak first, he might weave some sort of enchantment. But he couldn’t just send him away. But he should. He sat staring at the cold fireplace, a silent battle raging between the part of him that was utterly his father’s son and the part of him that had gone and fallen in love with Merlin.

He sat and stared at the fireplace until there was a knock on the door. “Go away,” he barked without so much as looking at the door.

He heard feet shuffling out in the corridor. “Arthur?”

At the sound of that voice his stomach churned, somewhere between fury and relief. “I said go _away_.”

Of course he didn’t listen. The door opened and in sidled Merlin. What Arthur could see of his face in the low light was pale and blotchy and drawn. “Don’t you _ever_ do as you’re told?” he muttered.

Relief. It was relief he was feeling. Merlin was there, and he looked just as he always did, awkward and gangly and harmless. Arthur felt something inside him snap, and the battle was won. He couldn’t hate Merlin. He tried not to let it show on his face.

“I’m sorry.” Merlin leaned against the door. “I’m sorry. I wanted – I had to talk to you. I wanted to give you some time, but I waited as long as I could, and –” He took a deep breath. “Will you let me explain?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” said Arthur, lying through his teeth. It didn’t matter what he said. Merlin would explain regardless.

True enough, Merlin was quiet for only a second before words burst out of him. “I wanted to tell you,” he said. “I did, I really did – but I didn’t know what you’d do, if you’d – or you’d – and I didn’t want to put you in that position, and I – is this making any sense?” Arthur stood up. Merlin’s eyes tracked his movements. “And I’m sorry,” he went on, “I really, truly am, and I understand that you’re angry, but can we please talk about this, and – can you please forgive me, because I never wanted to lie to you, I didn’t, and –”

Oh, but Merlin was hopelessly, senselessly in love with Arthur. It was all over his face. Arthur ached to touch him, and his resolve broke almost at once. At first Merlin flinched, as if he thought he was going to be struck, but then Arthur’s arms were around him. His arms were full of Merlin, and he felt Merlin sigh as he relaxed into the embrace.

“I missed you,” said Arthur. “I hate you. _God_ , I missed you.” He pulled back. Merlin’s face was right there, they were almost nose to nose. “You’re a sorcerer.”

“Yes,” said Merlin. “I – yes.”

“Were you ever going to tell me?”

“Probably,” said Merlin. “Maybe. Just – not naked and crying, you know?”

“Not the best way,” said Arthur. They both laughed, breathless. “You. Have magic.”

“Yes,” said Merlin. “But if you want me to stop – I will. I’ll never use it again if that’s what you want. I promise. I’d swear it.”

And he meant it, too. Arthur could see that he meant it, and see how much it hurt to say it. Merlin wore all his feelings on his face. How was he such a good liar? “You don’t use it,” he said. Merlin seized up in his arms. “You don’t use it against me, or Camelot. Ever. You understand?”

“I wouldn’t,” said Merlin, truly shocked at the suggestion. “I wouldn’t ever, and I’ve never – alright, maybe once,” he said, “just after I came to Camelot – I _might_ have used it to win a fight with you. In the market place.”

“You –” Arthur stared at him, dumbfounded. The memory trickled back. “Oh, I could _strangle_ you. That is the single most idiotic thing I’ve ever –” He wanted to shake Merlin, and he did. “Why would you _do_ that?”

“I don’t know!” said Merlin. “I was new in Camelot! You were _very annoying_!”

And that clinched it. Merlin was exactly the person he seemed to be – just with magic thrown in the mix. _Somehow_.

“But I wouldn’t ever,” Merlin persisted. “I’m supposed to use it to protect you – that’s what the dragon says –”

“Wait, the _dragon_?” said Arthur. “There’s a dragon?”

“Did I say dragon?” said Merlin, “because I meant –” Arthur fixed him with a hard look. “Dragon. I meant dragon. Um. He says it’s my destiny to protect you.”

Arthur imagined Merlin protecting him. He pictured Merlin standing feebly in front of him with a pointy stick – then he thought of the wild, golden magic he’d seen in Merlin, and he shivered.

Merlin was still babbling away, something about coins and destiny and the Kingdom of Albion. Arthur covered his mouth. “You are going to tell me everything,” he said. Merlin nodded. “And I mean _everything_.” Merlin made a noise as if to speak. “But not tonight. I’m too tired. Tomorrow, you understand? Tomorrow, you tell me everything. And you never lie to me again. Are we agreed?”

Slowly he released Merlin’s lips, so that he could answer. “Agreed.”

“You’re a sorcerer,” said Arthur. “And you’re in love with me.”

Merlin’s eyes widened, as if he were shocked that Arthur knew, as if it weren’t blindingly obvious. “I didn’t –”

“ _Mer_ lin,” said Arthur. “It’s alright.” He cuffed gently at Merlin’s face. “Me too.” He rested his forehead against Merlin’s.

“Thanks,” said Merlin after a moment. “What you did – thank you. I wasn’t sure you’d find a way. I mean, I trust you. But I wasn’t sure.”

“Couldn’t you have got yourself out?” said Arthur.

“Probably,” said Merlin. “I wasn’t sure. I was afraid I’d have to leave Camelot. And I’m supposed to be with you. There’s this destiny business –”

“Hell with destiny,” said Arthur. “This is where you want to be. Isn’t it?”

Merlin took a moment to answer, as if he hadn’t really thought about it before. “Yeah,” he said. “Yes.”

“I damn well hope so,” said Arthur, and kissed him.

He kissed Merlin till he ran out of breath, and he’d have liked to go on kissing him. He breathed, and Merlin breathed too. “Well,” he said by way of breaking the silence. “I’m glad we talked this over. And I’m glad you came to see me – to apologise.”

“That’s not why I came to see you,” said Merlin. “I mean, it is. But it isn’t.”

“You’re not making any sense, Merlin,” said Arthur.

Merlin sucked in a breath and stepped back, out of Arthur’s arms. “Did you know,” he said, “d’you know what they’re saying at court, about us? About me?”

“I’ve not been listening,” said Arthur. It was usually best.

“Well, I have,” said Merlin. “I couldn’t not. They’re saying –” He swallowed.

“What are they saying?”

“They’re saying,” said Merlin, “they’re saying that you had me once – and I wasn’t good enough for you. They’re saying you don’t want me because I’m not good enough.” It was absurd, but the bitterness in his voice made it sound like the most cutting of insults.

“Why would you listen to that?” said Arthur, but the moment the words were out of his mouth, he felt a glimmer of understanding.

“Because if they think you don’t want me, they might think I’m – not yours, and –”

“Don’t,” said Arthur before Merlin’s voice could get any more broken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I didn’t mean to throw you to the wolves.”

“I know you didn’t,” said Merlin, “and I know why you were so angry, but – after what happened I really needed you, and you just.” He took a breath and spoke again before Arthur could say anything. “But I suppose it’s my own fault for getting myself into this stupid mess to begin with.”

“Oh, please,” said Arthur. Then, before he could stop himself, he said, “Are we a mess?”

Merlin’s eyes softened. “No. No, we’re – what I’m trying to say is, I came back because I really missed you. And kind of because I need you.”

“You could have handled them,” said Arthur. He knew that wasn’t what Merlin meant, but he said it anyway. “Couldn’t you?”

Merlin’s head tilted as he considered. “Probably. I didn’t want to find out.”

“Well, you have my permission to use –” Arthur choked on the word he’d been going to say, which was _magic_. “You have my permission to handle it if anyone tries anything.”

“I don’t need your permission,” said Merlin.

He did, really, because _anyone_ could easily be a knight or noble of Camelot, and that would count as using magic against the country, strictly speaking, but Arthur didn’t say as much. What he said was, “It’s cold. Light the fire?” Merlin made a move towards the empty fireplace, but Arthur stopped him with a firm hand on his arm. “You know what I mean.”

For a second there was a haunted look in Merlin’s eyes, like a wild animal who had wandered blinking into the light of a campfire, but then he turned away from Arthur, resolved. There was a flash of gold in his eyes, and the firewood was stacked on the hearth. Another flash, and a fire was burning, flames golden, then the natural orange-red.

Arthur watched. He watched, breathless, his hand still on Merlin’s arm. They weren’t even looking each other in the eye, but as his grip tightened on Merlin’s forearm he had the strange feeling they’d never been more intimate.

The firelight cast flickering shadows all around the room. “It’s yours if you’ll have it,” said Merlin, words tumbling out in a rush. When Arthur looked at him, his eyes were still gold, though maybe that was just the firelight. He wanted to say that of course he would have it. He wanted to say that he didn’t feel worthy of it, for in the orange firelight, Merlin’s magic looked so very wild and untameable. He wanted to say Merlin’s name.

“Merlin.” His hand slipped to Merlin’s wrist, where his skin was cool to the touch. “ _Merlin_.”

Merlin tugged his hand away and for a moment Arthur felt slighted – but then his fingers tangled in Arthur’s hair and he was kissing Arthur, kissing him with that strange ferocity that came out of him sometimes. His mouth was hot against Arthur’s, like a brand, and Arthur had the sense that he was being claimed. But Merlin had claimed him months ago. Merlin had had a hold on him since – maybe since Arthur had first seen him in heat.

“Stay tonight,” he murmured into Merlin’s neck.

“Planning to,” said Merlin. He buried his face in Arthur’s shoulder and held on tight.

*

Arthur didn’t understand Merlin. He didn’t think he ever would. Even if he lived to be eighty and shared his bed with Merlin every night for the rest of his life, there would still be parts of Merlin he wouldn’t be privy to. But he would gladly try.

He woke the next morning, sunlight pouring through the window, the fire burned out in the hearth. Merlin was a still presence behind him, and Arthur thought him asleep till he rolled over and found Merlin’s bright blue eyes staring at him.

“Hi,” said Merlin.

“Good morning,” said Arthur. “How long have you been awake?” Merlin shrugged. “Were you watching me sleep?”

“No,” said Merlin. “Well, a bit.”

Merlin was dressed in one of Arthur’s nightshirts. The one Arthur had slept in the night before. He’d told Merlin he didn’t have a clean one, but they both knew he was lying. He liked the idea of Merlin dressed in his clothes.

He leaned across the bed and kissed Merlin’s soft mouth, trailed a hand through his mussed up hair. He hadn’t bedded Merlin, and Merlin hadn’t bedded him, except in the purely literal sense. They’d both been too exhausted to do much more than undress and slip into Arthur’s bed. It was plenty big enough for two.

He traced the line of Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb. “I should send you for breakfast.” 

“Hmm,” said Merlin. “No.”

“What do you mean, _no_?”

“I mean I’m not your manservant any more.” He went on before Arthur could object. “The king removed me from your service, didn’t he?” He rolled away from Arthur and stretched out on the bed, luxuriating in his laxness. “I’m not your manservant. I’m your _Omega_.”

“Well, I say you’re my manservant.” Though he didn’t really mean it. But the question of what Merlin was could wait for another day. _His Omega_ wouldn’t do. _Prince Consort_ appealed, but would probably have to wait till he was king. “And you’re not _my_ Omega,” he said. “You’re not mine. You’re yours.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.” Merlin’s eyes searched Arthur’s face. “But I am, though.”

“You are what?”

“Yours,” said Merlin. “I think I’ve always been yours.”

“What, before you even met me?”

Arthur had meant it as a joke, but Merlin said, “Yeah. I think so.” He was completely sincere.

Arthur rested a hand on Merlin’s chest, not to claim as much as to comfort. “That doesn’t even make sense.” He added, “ _Mer_ lin,” to make it a more comfortable joke.

Merlin laughed. “No. You’re right. That’s just how it feels sometimes.”

“Because you’re _in love_ with me?” Arthur couldn’t quite get over it.

Merlin’s fist collided feebly with his ribs. “Shut up,” he said. “Yeah, though. I wasn’t always. But yes.”

“When did you – you know?” asked Arthur.

“I don’t know,” said Merlin. “I mean, I met you, and I kind of hated you – because you are a _total_ prat, and you put me in the dungeons, and then I had to do all your laundry – but I just sort of looked at you one day and – there.” He had a dreamy kind of look in his eyes. “You’d just come in from training and I was helping you off with your armour, and you were in a weirdly good mood – you turned to me and said – I don’t remember exactly what you said, but I think it might have been the first nice thing you ever said to me, and I was _stupidly_ happy.” Arthur snorted.

The funny thing was, he remembered. He’d been in a good mood even though Morgana had bested him in a bout, sneak as she was. What he’d said had been _good job, Merlin. Couldn’t ask for a better servant_. It wasn’t really true, but in that moment he’d meant it. He wasn’t sure why that afternoon had stuck in his memory.

“When did you?” Merlin rolled over to face him.

“You really want to know?” Arthur ran a hand up and down Merlin’s arm, where the too-big nightshirt had ridden up. “Only these last few days. After – after they took you away.”

Merlin closed his eyes, wincing. “That must have been fun.”

“The most fun.” Arthur cupped Merlin’s face and kissed him. “Mmm. I think we shall stay here all day.”

“Don’t you have duties to be getting on with?”

“Probably,” said Arthur. “I think I can afford to skive, though. Can’t have every damn Alpha at court thinking I don’t want you.” Keeping Merlin in bed for a whole day would probably convince them. Though maybe it would take two.

“They’ll talk up a storm,” said Merlin.

“Let them talk.” He kissed Merlin again, rolled him over and pressed him into the bed the way that made him go limp and boneless and happy, then set about divesting him of his borrowed nightshirt.

“Thought we were supposed to talk about – things.”

“Later,” said Arthur. “It can wait.” _God_ , but it could wait. He pressed his lips to the spot behind Merlin’s ear, where he was excruciatingly sensitive, and whatever Merlin had been going to say was replaced by his name, _Arthur_ , falling rough from Merlin’s lips.

And Arthur decided, in that moment, that whatever truths Merlin was going to tell him later in the day, he didn’t care. He’d take Merlin as he was, every part of him – ridiculous manservant, awful sense of humour, Omega, _sorcerer_ – just as Merlin had taken him as he was, Beta and all.


End file.
